The Forgotten One
by GladerGirl621
Summary: River Marks is no average teen. He can see zombies. But before he made his crew of zombie slayers, he was the brother of two girls who were both at risk of death, thanks to their so-called 'father'. But when his love interest suddenly disappears, he starts to lose focus. He feels that his girlfriend's disappearance is connected to the zombies, but what is tying the two together?
1. Chapter 1

**The Forgotten One**

 **By: GladerGirl621**

 **Chapter 1 – Prologue/Training**

 **Prologue**

 _I stare dazedly at the gory and blurry knife in my hand, trying to remember how it came to my possession as it fades in and out of my sight._

 _My eyes slowly blink, attempting to see clearly but unable to brush away the haze that clouds my vision and mind._

 _Where am I? What am I doing?_

 _What is happening?_

 _Distantly, I hear the sounds of coughing and gurgling and my head drunkenly turns towards the cause._

 _A smudge of a figure appears in the murky abyss._

 _As my vision heightens ever so gradually, the body morphs into a girl, and the girl becomes a barely recognisable face._

 _My sister, Camilla._

 _Her body; beaten and bruised._

 _A bloody baseball bat lying beside her prone form._

 _I'm absorbed in figuring out what happened to her when she coughs again, and slowly turns her head towards me._

 _She blinks a few times and takes a ragged breath:_

" _River?"_

 _And then…_

 _Bam._

 _Everything instantly comes into sharp focus and it's like a harsh blow to my stomach._

 _I remember everything._

 _The carnage before me is spotlighted to full display._

 _The blood that covers the walls._

 _The floor._

 _The bodies. Oh god, the bodies…_

 _No. Not now._

 _Bam._

 _I drop the knife and I didn't realise it before, but I am shaking. Gripping my wrist with my free hand, I try to force myself to quit trembling, but it won't stop._

 _Why won't it stop?_

 _No. I don't care._

 _I let go of my wrist and walk towards Camilla. She is the top priority. Only, my legs are shaking as well._

 _I crumple to the floor before I can take a second step._

 _Bam._

 _I hit the red-splattered floorboards with a loud thump, and my body sprawls limply across the floor as my brain rattles in my skull._

 _So… dizzy…_

 _I shake my head as black spider webs crawl into my vision, but it doesn't do anything._

 _My body slumps closer to the floor in resignation._

 _I am too weak._

No you're not. Get to her. _My conscious demands._

But I'm not strong enough. _I say as the dark lines begin blurring my sight._

Yes you are! Now get your ass off the floor and help her now! She's dying! _The voice screams._

 _Bam._

She's dying.

 _The words echo in my head, and every other noise fades as the phrase takes over._

She's dying.

She's dying.

She's dying.

 _No, I can't let that happen._

 _I_ won't _let that happen._

 _I stretch my arms out to Milla; my courage is rising and I'm now desperate to reach her, even though I'm almost without eyesight._

 _Move god dammit!_

 _I need to help her._

Come on! _The inner voice screams again._

 _I feel my muscles droop with the weight of one hundred pounds._

 _Help her…_

 _The figure of Camilla gets smaller as the shadowy lines cover my sight completely, and my arms drop uselessly to the floor._

 _Camilla disappears entirely._

 _Bam._

 **6 Months Earlier…**

"Milla, keep your fists in front of your face; not your chest." I say, exasperated.

Camilla drops her hands down to her sides, not bothering to follow my instruction. The golden eyes that are exactly like mine glance up at me and glare.

"I'm over this!" She exclaims in annoyance.

"Over what?" I ask her, honestly curious.

She puts her hands on her hips, and I have to fight a grin as she attempts to act angry and mature simultaneously.

Which is rare for me. I hardly ever smile anymore.

"I'm over listening to you teach me. Let Mace teach me!" She says.

My humour flees, and I scowl at the mention of Mace's name.

"Mace is not teaching you how to fight. I am your brother. Therefore, _I_ teach you." I contradict.

She rolls her eyes and stamps her foot.

At 15 years of age, I expected a little better.

 _She's probably still going through the ending phases of puberty_ Nasty River snorts. I almost chuckle with him at the joke, but halt.

What if she _is_ still going through the ending phases of puberty?

Lord help me if so.

Camilla crosses her arms and glowers, as if she can read my mind. Her champagne-coloured eyes glimmer with fake-anger and her long dark hair bounces as she harrumphs.

This time, I do chuckle a little. Milla watches me angrily and then hesitantly for a minute, before laughing along with me. Whether that was because she realised how ridiculous she was being, or whether she realised how much we both needed a good laugh, I don't know.

I was two years older than Milla, placing me at 17, which also meant the growing pains had long since fled. They had treated me well considering.

I was about 6'4, stacked with muscle and totally toned.

I won't lie; I was.

I had dark hair and golden eyes like my sister standing in front of me, as well as Caroline; my other sister and Milla's twin.

Caroline was currently leaning against a wall, watching Milla and I toss our banter. Her slender arms were crossed and her eyes were alight with the amusement of an adult.

It was quite funny; Caroline was younger than Camilla and I, and yet she had always possessed a level of maturity neither of us could compete with. Caroline was 15 like Milla and they always did everything together.

We all were what you could call 'genetic-miracle material'.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts and attempt to reason with Camilla again.

"Mace is too much of a distraction to you. You won't focus when you're spending all your time wondering what he'd be like in bed." I say.

Admittedly, that was kind of harsh to say. Oh well.

Milla's mouth drops open and she glowers again.

"Guys," Caroline says, walking over, "let's not get too caught up, yeah? Riv, just let her train with Mace. She actually is more likely to focus if she's practising with someone she likes."

Angry, I'm about to retort right back before I catch the gleam in Caro's eyes. This shouldn't be an argument; her voice had worn a joking tone, but she was also trying to convey how important this training was.

Milla _was_ more likely to focus if she enjoyed training.

Ugh, I really don't want to do this.

I turn to Camilla.

"If I allow Mace to train you, will you actually follow instruction and learn something?" I question after a moment.

Milla's eyes light up with hope and joy; something I hadn't seen in a while. But it made me jealous to think Mace was behind the happiness and not me. That was the _brother's_ job.

 _Quit acting like a five year old_ Straight-Laced River barked.

She jumps up and down and claps her hands.

"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" She exclaims.

"Ugh, fine. I'll call Mace and tell him to come over." I inform her.

Milla stops jumping and looks at me with confusion.

"Wait, we're still going to train today?" She asks.

"Duh, why do you think I'm going to call Mace?" I say dubiously.

She rolls her eyes for the second time that day, and begins to unwind the tape from around her knuckles.

"I need a break, Riv. Call Mace and tell him to come over tomorrow."

"Are you kidding me?" I say to Camilla in disbelief.

Caroline laughs and punches me in the shoulder.

"Cheer up, Riv!" She says. "Camilla has been working hard; give her a break."

I stare mockingly at Caro and she rolls her eyes at me.

"Anyway," Milla intervenes. "Time's up. We have to go home and make dinner before Daddy gets home." She tries to mask it, but I can hear the slight tremor in her voice when she brings up our father.

Caro and I look at each other, and that one look says it all.

All we can say about him:

That fucking bastard.

 **Author's Note: Hey all! So, this is the new story I started. What do ya think? I'm trying my hardest to make this story as detailed as possible and I've been editing it for the past couple of days; that's why I couldn't post it yet :D But, here it is, so please comment and tell me if you like it!**

 **~ GladerGirl621 xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – Daddy's Home**

"Caro, hurry up and put the plates on the table!" I shout in desperation, already hearing the car pull up in the driveway.

Caroline grabs the plates and hurriedly lays them around the table, along with cutlery and some glasses.

"Milla, the drinks and the food!" I yell at her as I empty vegetables into a decorative bowl.

Camilla hefts the Sunday lamb roast platter and potatoes into the middle of the table and hurries back to the kitchen to get the drinks.

She lays out a bottle of water for us and our mother, before placing a can of beer at the end of the table; the place where our father always sits.

I sprint around to the table with the bowl of vegetables and a jug of gravy, before hastily laying out napkins on the plates.

I turn back to Caro and Milla.

"Okay, everything is done! Everyone on the table, now!" I say before we all run to the table and plonk ourselves down, just as the key is inserted into the lock and the door is swung open.

Daddy's home.

We all sit upright and brush imaginary dust off our legs, then place our hands politely in our laps. It was our standard routine at dinner time.

Stay silent, do nothing unless asked to.

Our father's heavy steps thunder through the hallway and I can hear him throw his briefcase loudly against a wall as he yells to himself. My sisters flinch at the sudden noise. This is not good. He's had a bad day at work.

I glance up at Milla and Caro, who are both trembling slightly.

I reach under the table and grab their hands, offering what comfort and reassurance I can. They minutely flick their eyes up at me and provide a small smile of relief. I smile back at them before moving my hands back into my lap as our father appears in the dining room doorway.

He stares at us for a minute, and I make sure I do not make eye contact.

He stomps over to the table and takes his place at the end of the table. I sit at the other end, Milla and Caro sit opposite each other, and our mother sits next to Milla.

Our mother…

Oh, shit.

Milla and Caro come to the same realization as me, and their heads shoot upwards to face me in fear.

We forgot to wake her up.

I glance quickly at our father, and he's already glaring at me with harsh black eyes.

"Why isn't she at the table?" He growls menacingly.

I swallow carefully before speaking.

"I forgot to wake her." I reply smoothly.

His glare deepens and he clenches his fists beside his plate.

"Well then, I suggest you hurry the fuck up and get her." He spits at me.

I slide my chair out and stand up, steadying my shaky legs as I walk out of the dining room and head up the stairs.

I enter my mother's bedroom and see her lying on the bed, her limbs sprawled everywhere.

I rummage through the crap on the floor and gather a pile of clean clothes for her, knowing she'll need to shower before dinner.

I walk over and shake her shoulders.

"Wake up mother, it's time for dinner. Wake up." I say and she rouses hazily beneath my hands.

Her head rolls to face me and her eyes groggily open.

She studies me for a second, as if trying to remember who I am and I let her, waiting patiently. Once she identifies me, her entire body rolls over and I hear a small cracking noise of glass as she does.

She pushes me out of the way as she flings her legs over the bed and snatches the clothes from my hands. She stands up on wobbly legs and heads to the bathroom to shower.

Once she's gone and I hear the sound of water running, I turn back towards the bed to find the source of the previous cracking.

Small shards of glass lay on the bed, beside the indentation of my mother's body in the mattress.

Walking over to take a closer look, I spot several thin, metal needles in the midst of the shards, as well as drops of a liquid substance.

She's been shooting up again.

I sigh as I hear the water turn off and quickly walk out of the room and down the stairs, realizing I had left Milla and Caro alone with the other asshole for 5 minutes.

I walk back into the dining room and stealthily study my sisters' faces.

No red marks or bruises.

Thank the Lord.

I re-take my place at the table and feel my father's gaze boring into my face.

"I thought I told you to wake her up, you piece of shit. She ain't here." He snaps at me.

I bravely raise my head and look at him in the eye.

"I did father, she's just finished showering and should be down in less than a minute." I say in what I hope is a calm tone, rather than one that says: _I want to rip your fucking face off, you bastard_.

Right on que, my mother stumbles down the stairs in clean clothes and freshly washed hair.

Silently, she kisses my father on the cheek and sits down next to Milla.

My father wipes his cheek; the one my mother kissed, before snarling at Caro.

"Pour me my beer."

Caroline stands up and snaps open his can, pouring it into the waiting glass.

Not too much Caro…

She fills the glass with about a 2cm gap between the brim of the glass and the beer.

Good.

I release the breath I didn't know I was holding and Caro sits back down at the table.

Our father begins serving himself food and we all wait until he has a full plate, before serving ourselves.

We begin to eat and I taste the food, hoping we cooked it correctly.

The meat was cooked excellently, the gravy was delicious and the vegetables and potatoes were still hot. It was a fantastic dinner to eat.

Milla and Caro look up at me and we all smile, happy with our cooking.

Our happiness is short-lived as our father coughs and spits meat out onto his plate.

Oh no.

He takes a long dreg of his beer before turning to us.

"Which one of you was responsible for cooking the meat?" He barked.

Camilla swallows loudly.

"I was, father." She responds.

He narrows his eyes mockingly at her.

" _I was, father_." He reiterates with a girly tone.

Milla lowers her head.

"This meat is too raw and tastes like shit. I thought I told you to make sure this dinner was cooked perfectly!" He snaps at her cowering figure.

I knew for a fact that the dinner _was_ perfect, but nothing we did was ever good enough for him. It was only worse when he didn't get payed enough for what he sold at 'work'.

He stands up suddenly, his chair skidding out behind him as he stalks to where Milla is sitting.

He brings his face close to her cheek and she tenses up in fear, but not saying a word.

I slowly straighten and place my hands on the table. There is no way in fuck he is laying a hand on her.

"Get up!" He yells in Milla's ear.

Shaking, she stands up.

"You're the one responsible for fucking up the meal, so you get punished." He snaps at her.

He raises a hand and she shuts her eyes, bracing for the blow.

Oh hell, no.

I jump up off of my chair and run over to Milla, standing in front of her just as our father's hand comes down.

Smack.

 **Author's Note: HEYYY! Second chapter to my story! I tend to give a long intro into the lives of my characters before the main stuff in the plot starts happening, but I promise that in the next chapter, you will meet River's "love interest" :D. Anyways, please comment and favourite if you like the story, and do let other people know if you think they might like it! Love and thanks to my followers!**

 **~ GladerGirl621**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – The New Girl**

 **River's P.O.V:**

I yawn widely as I wake up from bed.

Rubbing sleep out of my eyes, I fling my legs over the side of the mattress and stand up, hoping to avoid stepping on anything that had been left on the floor as I make my way through the darkness.

Fortunately, I don't, and I reach my destination: the closet. I pull out a black t-shirt, which I see has a Green Day print on the front as my eyes adjust in the dark, my black skinny jeans and black high-tops. Once I put everything on, I walk to the wall of the room and flick on the light.

Milla and Caro groan in unison as they shield their eyes from the gleam.

"Ugh… turn the light off, Riv." Milla complains from the bottom of her and Caro's bunk bed.

"Yep, same here." Caro calls from the top bunk.

I roll my eyes.

"Guys, we need to go to school; we'll be late otherwise. So, get up." I say.

Milla groans again, rolls off of her bed and plonks down onto the floor unceremoniously.

Caro groggily sits up and crawls to the ladder, making her way down the rungs.

I nod satisfactorily and head to the kitchen to make breakfast, ensuring the girls won't have to do too much before our father and mother wake up.

I cook up pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast and a few hash browns by the time my sisters come down the stairs. They look much more freshened up; their hair brushed and gleaming, and they even wore a little makeup.

It was hot out, but my sisters wore matching long-sleeve shirts and jeans. I clenched my fists tightly. I knew they had to. Or else everyone would see the bruises. But, it still made me angry to think they couldn't even act normal because of the bastard in our house.

The bruises under my sisters' clothes weren't fresh, but they were still visible.

I knew I had none on my arms, but there were plenty on my torso and legs. And, I had a nice new one on my face.

Our father always made sure to hit us in places no one would notice, with the exception of last night, when I took my Milla's beating. I was in for it yesterday; he beat the shit out of me for that.

Milla and Caro walk into the kitchen and arrange all of the food on some plates, then I place them on the dining table along with cutlery and glasses.

I gesture to the fridge and they understand, grabbing out orange juice and water. They place the drinks on the table as well, and we sit in out chairs until our poor excuses for parents wake up.

I glance at the clock and see that it's 7:30 in the morning.

We have to leave in half an hour.

When we eventually hear footsteps thudding down the stairs, its 7:35.

Our father takes his place at the table, and our mother silently takes hers. Once our father has his plate full, we serve ourselves.

Nobody says a word at this breakfast.

I chew and swallow my food without speaking and once I finish, I gather up my plate and cutlery and place them in the sink.

Once everyone else finishes, I take theirs as well, tensing slightly when I take my father's. Just when I think all is well, he grabs my arm tightly before I can move away.

"I hope you learnt your fucking lesson yesterday, boy." He spits in my ear. "When I give out a punishment meant for your sisters, you do not take it for them. You hear me, boy?"

I stay frozen, unsure of what to do or say.

"I said, do you hear me boy?!" He yells at me, and I hurriedly nod as I flinch from the volume. "Good. Now go and clean up this shit and get out."

My father lets go of my arm and allows me to take his plate.

Milla and Caro quickly get up and help clear the table, and we place every dirty dish in the sink. I hastily scrub and wash the dishes while my sisters dry them and put them away.

By the time we finish, its 7:50.

We head upstairs and brush our teeth, and I observe the mark on my face.

No too prominent, but not invisible. Just a red mark tinged with purple resting on my cheekbone. Nothing I can do.

We all rush back downstairs and grab our backpacks, sitting them comfortably on our shoulders. Our father still sits at the table, watching us as we head towards the front door.

"You've still got a mark on your face, boy." He says to me.

I glance at Milla and Caro and nod, and they quickly speed out of the front door and wait outside.

I turn back to my father.

"Yes, father."

He glares.

"I'll say I fell over if anyone asks, father."

His forehead evens out.

"Good. Now get out." He says.

I nod wordlessly and follow my sisters' path out of the house. As soon as my feet step onto the concrete, I feel relief. We're out. For 8 hours at least.

We all walk down to the bus stop and wait, and I'm surprised that we're actually early.

"Are you okay, Riv?" Caro asks me with concern.

I smile at her reassuringly.

"Of course I'm fine, Caro." I say.

The frown between her eyebrows smooths and she sighs.

"Okay" Is all she says.

I see the bus coming down the road and adjust my bag, getting ready to go on.

I hear a sniffle from behind me. Turning, I see Milla with watery eyes.

"Milla? What's wrong?" I say worriedly. The bruises are probably hurting her. Shit.

She wipes her nose on her sleeve.

"It's just… I let you take the hit. Now you're being punished by Daddy because of me." A tear rolls down her face.

 _It's not the bruises._ I think as I sigh.

The bus has almost reached us.

"Milla, it's completely fine. I didn't want that bastard laying a hand on you; it's my fault that I got punished." I say as I wipe her tear away with my thumb. "Now, toughen up and be strong for me, okay? The bus is here."

She nods and takes a shaky breath just as the bus pulls up to the curb. We all get on and Milla and Caro take their seats with their friends as I pay for the tickets.

The bus driver I have known for a while, and he always makes us pay less for tickets. He's always been supportive and nice to us, and I can't help wishing that _he_ was our father. I haven't told him anything about our home life – I haven't told _anyone_ – but some of the things he does for us makes me feel like he already knows.

Kind of like now.

He looks up at my face, and I can feel his eyes zero in on the mark on my cheek. He doesn't mention the mark, just looks at me and nods.

"You okay, River my boy?" He asks, concern and understanding in his aged eyes.

I feel a gush of warmth as he calls me 'his boy'. Maybe he considers me to be a son too.

"Yes, sir. I'm fine, thank-you." I say.

"Take care, won't you River?" He says and I nod in response, smiling in gratitude.

He returns the smile and turns back to the driver's wheel, getting ready to move the bus.

I turn towards the interior of the bus and look around, trying to spot my friend. My _only_ friend.

My sisters are sitting with a group of girls, and I feel happy at how at ease they look now that we're out of the house. They were all chatting with each other, probably about some trivial nonsense like makeup.

I shake my head and the bus moves, sending me forward with a jerk. I quickly regain my balance, but accidently knock over someone's bag, their books spilling across the floor.

"Oh crap, sorry." I say, already picking up the books.

"That's okay." A feminine calls from above me.

A pair of dainty hands quickly come down and pick up the rest of the books, and I know its cliché but as I reached for the last book, so did she and our hands touched, sending a spark of electricity up my arm.

I swing my head up and my eyes connect with the girl's.

I almost do a double-take. She was so beautiful I was nearly knocked over again.

I don't recognise her – I would definitely remember if I did – so she must be new to our school.

Sparkling green eyes the colour of fresh grass gaze down at me, and long midnight-black hair hangs over her shoulders in waves. Her skin is fair and luminous with high cheekbones and an oval face, and her body is slender. She doesn't appear to be wearing any makeup, aside from a light red lip gloss.

Just, wow.

She's staring at me with wide eyes; probably a mirror of mine, and I'm literally speechless.

 _Do something, you idiot! Say something, you idiot!_ My conscious yells desperately at me.

I fumble around for something to say and glance down, gazing at the book that we're still both touching.

I quickly remove my hand and grab the book, holding it up to her.

"Uh, here." I say.

Wow, she must be completely fascinated by my stellar communication skills.

She clears her throat.

"Thank-you." She says and gently takes the book off of me, manoeuvring it into her backpack while keeping her gaze on the ground.

Her voice sounded like Southern angels harmonizing.

I stand up clumsily.

"Sorry, again." I say. Geez River, try to say something with more than 4 syllables.

She glances up at me again and smiles, and my heart stops beating for a second.

"It's okay." She replies before pausing. "I'm Willow, by the way."

Willow. It suited her.

"I'm River." I say. It was less than 4 syllables, but at least I didn't say 'um' or 'uh'.

She smiles at me again and I smile weirdly back at her, before speed-walking to the middle of the bus, finding my friend, and plonking down next to him.

"Bro, what the hell was all that about?" My friend, Aston, says next to me.

Aston Martin was the only person I'd ever met who actually wanted to talk to me. He was a year younger than me and had the physical makings of a god-waiting-to-happen, but was teased mercilessly because of his full name.

As in, Aston Martin the car.

He usually kept to himself, not saying much, but was always uplifted when he was around me.

It kind of felt nice to see that I could help the kid out in some way, considering he's had a far worse life than I have.

Unlike me, he's told me everything about himself, not fearing my judgement.

I respected that.

"Seriously, man, what was going on back there?" He repeats, nodding his head in the direction of Willow, causing his blonde hair to catch the sunlight.

I shake my head at him.

"I don't know."

Aston laughs, humour twinkling in his blueberry eyes.

"Ah, you've got the beginnings of love, I see." He muses as he rests his elbow on the head of his bus seat.

I turn to him in outrage that's only half mocking.

"No I do not!" I whisper-shout at him, which was pointless really; no one could hear me over the loud wave of bickering voices.

He shrugs and holds his hands up in surrender.

"Bro, gettin' all defensive is usually a sign. Just pointin' that one out for you." He says.

I'm about to retort back, then stop as I realize I would be getting defensive. So, I shut my mouth instead and try to open up a new conversation.

"Fine then, so have you done the history homework yet?" I question.

Aston looks over at me with a 'did you really just ask me that' look on his face.

"I'd have thought that question would be rhetorical, but for the sake of it: no I haven't." He replies monotonously. "And besides," he continues, "who the hell does Ms. Jackson think she is trying to get me to write about the freaking Paris Peace Conference. Does it look like I know what the fuck that is man? And don't even get me started on that…"

I let him rant for a bit, tuning out as I stare at the back of Willow's head.

Her black hair is highlighted in the sunlight, making the strands appear blue. She tucks her hair behind her ears and I see she has earbuds in, tapping her head slightly to whatever music she is listening to.

I only look away when I realize Aston has stopped talking.

Glancing over at him, I see him staring out of the window with a hazy look on his face, his eyes crazily drilling into something.

Oh shit, not this again.

"Aston, man. Come on we're almost at school." I say, clicking my fingers in front of his face, trying to get him to snap out of it.

He shakes his head and focuses his eyes on me, but he's still out of it.

"Bro, you alright?" I say to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Shaking his head again, he looks out the window and points.

"Don't you see them?" He whispers to me, and the boy who had been laughing next to me before disappears.

I look out the window and study the streets, knowing there will be nothing there, but wanting to satisfy Aston anyway.

All I can see are trees and blocks of apartments, as well as cars and some people.

"I can see people, Aston." I say gently as I turn back to him, removing my hand.

His eyes are wide with terror and he's glancing between me and the window, as if trying to make me see what he can see.

"They're right there, River!" He shouts, which is still hard to hear over the others in the bus.

He needs to calm down.

"It's okay, Aston. They're not going to get you, it's okay." I repeat over and over until the bus moves again, Aston's eyes following whatever's outside until it's completely gone.

He turns back to me, tears in his eyes and breathing heavy.

"T-they were r-right there." He says shakily, his hand trembling as he points out of the window again. "They were right there."

I place my hand on his shoulder again and rub his arm.

"It's okay, man. They're gone."

Aston sputters for a bit, before turning back in his seat, putting his elbows on his knees and resting his head in his hands.

"Oh god." He mumbles into his palms.

I rub his back in comforting circles.

"You're okay, Aston. They're gone." I reiterate.

When Aston was a just toddler, his parents collapsed in front of him and died from what doctors called 'antipurifecative syndrome'. However, Aston has told me differently. Aston told me his parents died from monsters.

Zombies, to be specific.

He watched on while zombies infected his parents and ate their 'spirits'. Apparently, zombies don't want guts or blood, they want the good stuff. The soul, essence, spirit, etc. of a human.

I don't entirely believe what Aston tells me, because zombies? Please.

But when he spins out at times, like now, I can't help but believe him. He never gets worked up about something unless it's big. I've always convinced myself that it was just trauma from his parents.

When he first told me, I told the school guidance counsellor, a psychologist, a therapist and a psychiatrist and they told me Aston was most likely schizophrenic, thanks to previous medical reports. It took me a while to accept, but now I just roll with it.

Aston says he isn't schizophrenic though. He says the zombies are real.

I just nod and say 'okay'.

I glance down at him and see that he's still breathing heavily into his hands when the bus finally pulls into our school.

Alabama State High School. Also known as: the only legitimate high school in this part of Alabama that doesn't have graffiti covering its walls. Also, it's the only school my parents can afford to put myself and my sisters in.

I stand up as the bus pulls to a stop, and Aston groggily stands up beside me.

"You alright, man?" I say with concern.

He nods with his hand on his forehead.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good bro."

I nod in return as we make our way out of our aisle and into the flood of kids trying to get out of the bus.

When the stench of perfume and deodorant finally leaves and the scent of fresh air finally arrives, I sigh with relief. Not only does it benefit me, but clean air always helps Aston regain his bearings.

I hear him inhale deeply next to me and exhale in calm.

Good.

Turning back to the bus, I nod and thank the driver, who smiles and nods back before pulling away from the curb.

Swivelling my focus back to Aston and school, I give Aston a pat on the back and we make our way to the entrance of our school.

We push through the open doors and shove through the hallways, and finally make it to our lockers.

"Hey, bro?" Aston says from his locker, the one beside mine.

I turn to him.

"Yeah?"

The fear is gone from his eyes and has been replaced with a devilish glint.

I have never been more thankful to the Lord to see evil in my friend's eyes.

"Guess who's making their way towards us?" He says and I frown at him.

He points over my shoulder with a smirk on his face, and I turn, trying to discover the source of his humour.

Willow is walking towards us, a piece of paper in her hand as she continuously glances around at the lockers, evidently looking for hers.

She halts at the locker next to mine, number 214.

Oh no.

Be cool. Be cool…

She hasn't noticed me as she glances at the paper again and begins entering the code into her lock.

As she yanks on the lock, it doesn't open. Groaning, she tries again.

I try not to panic or laugh as I speak to her.

"Here." I say as I take the piece of paper from her hand and look at the code.

3924.

I enter the combination and tug hard on the lock, which pops open.

She stares up at me for a moment and glances at her locker again, a blush staining her cheeks.

Score one for River.

"Thank-you." She says shyly, taking back the piece of paper as I hand it out to her.

I shrug.

"That's alright. They're difficult when they want to be." I say, and she chuckles a little, much to my pride.

I feel like I've just won the lottery.

 _Okay, this is your chance to make some proper conversation here, River._ My conscious reminds me.

"So, what classes do you have?" I ask and my voice shakes slightly.

Aston snickers.

I elbow him backwards while still facing Willow and a satisfactory grunt sounds from behind me.

Willow digs through her bag and pulls out another piece of paper, this one her schedule.

"Um, I have Bio, Spanish, Chem, English, Calculus, Creative Writing and Art." She recites, her eyes lighting up on Art.

I tilt my head.

"You like art?" I ask her.

She smiles up at me, embarrassed.

"Yeah. I love it, actually." She says.

"Cool. I have Art as well." I say, not sure what else to say. Come on, now's your chance. "Um, you wanna sit with each other in class?" I question.

Her face brightens by the barest degree.

"Sure." She replies, pleased.

I'm about to ask her whether she does any art herself, but the bell rings loudly, cutting me off.

She jumps slightly and looks up at the speaker, before gazing at me again with her bright green eyes.

"Um, so maybe I'll see you around as well?" She says, uncertain.

She wants to hang out with me. I don't think I've ever been happier.

I smile widely at her.

"I'd like that."

 **Willow's P.O.V (Bonus!):**

 **On The Bus…**

I take a seat at the front of the bus as I finish paying for my ticket, and settle my bag at my feet.

I try to ignore all of the gazes on me as I sit down.

You move to a new school, you meet new people. Logic.

I lean down and grab out my phone, wincing slightly as I do so.

My punishment last night had taken its toll. I knew what lay beneath my long-sleeved top. Bruises that covered my arms and stomach in an array of blue and purple.

I cross my arms over my stomach self-consciously, and begin to regret the fact that I bad-mouthed my step-father.

Just got to fake a smile and go through the day.

The bus halts at the next stop and through my peripheral vision, I see 3 kids get on.

Two of them – girl twins – run straight to the back of the bus and meet up with the other girls sitting there. The sisters were gorgeous, with dark hair, golden eyes and slender bone structures. I hear them both laugh loudly at something another girl says.

The remaining kid is apparently paying for their tickets.

"You okay, River my boy?" I hear the bus driver say.

River? Interesting name.

And why is the driver asking if this boy's okay?

I keep looking out of the window and pretend that I'm not eavesdropping on a bus driver's conversation.

"Yes, sir. I'm fine, thank-you." A masculine voice replies, and it sounds beautiful.

Deep and raspy, but also quite rich, with a classic Alabama accent.

"Take care, won't you River?" The bus driver says, his voice full of concern.

He starts up the bus's engine again, and the boy turns towards the interior of the bus.

I ensure to stare very pointedly out of the window, becoming fascinated by an apple tree growing outside.

The bus driver speeds off, causing the boy to stumble forward and accidently knock over my backpack. He rights himself quickly and is already reaching for the stuff on the floor.

I turn towards him completely and see a bed of dark hair bent over my sprawled books, a pair of large hands picking them up.

"Oh crap, sorry." That nice voice says.

"That's okay." I say hesitantly, before reaching down and helping pick up the rest of my books.

I reach for the last book at the same time he does, and our hands touch. A spark races up my arm.

His head swivels up to meet me and I almost gasp.

He was even more gorgeous than his sisters.

His hair was dark and luxurious, and I couldn't help wondering what it would feel like to run my hands through it. He had a rectangle jaw and high cheekbones, and his body was totally toned.

He wore a black t-shirt with a Green Day print on the front (he liked Green Day too?) and it stretched perfectly across his chest.

His best feature, though, was his eyes.

Wow.

Bright and sparkling, his eyes were the most perfect shade of gold. They were the kind of eyes you could just fall into, not remembering who or where you are…

And they were currently wide and staring at me, probably an exact mirror of myself.

The only flaw in his perfection was the bruise that rested above his left cheekbone.

Had he gotten into a fight?

Probably.

Wait, why do I even care?

His intense gaze drops to the book we're both still touching, and he quickly withdraws his hand and grabs the book, holding it out to me.

"Uh, here." He says.

Great, he probably thinks I'm a freak for staring at him so weirdly, for so long.

I drop my gaze and clear my throat awkwardly.

"Thank-you." I say with what I hope is a calm tone as I reach forward and carefully take the book off of him, shoving it into my bag.

 _Play it cool, play it cool…_

He stands up gracefully beside me.

"Sorry, again." He says.

He's apologizing twice?

That was so adorable on a guy who looked like he could lift a truck.

I smile at him and he stands up a little straighter.

 _Now I've made him uncomfortable. Why am I such an idiot?_

"It's okay." I say and pause.

 _Say something!_

"I'm Willow, by the way." I continue.

 _Oh wow, Willow, excellent communication. You two have so much chemistry even scientists step back._ My conscious snarks at me.

"I'm River." He says to me.

I refrained from saying 'I know'.

It was interesting name, but it suited him.

I smile at him again, this one hopefully more relaxed and less 'I want to drown in your eyes'.

He smiles an angelic smile back and I'm thankful that he walks away before I collapse in wonder. I think his smile literally made my heart stop.

I turn and watch him walk to a blonde-haired boy, with whom he sits down beside.

Turning back to the front before he catches me staring, I plug my earbuds into my phone and crank up 'American Idiot' by Green Day.

 **Author's Note: So I am well aware that this chapter may have turned into an EXTREMELY LONG chapter, but I hope it keeps you all satisfied for a while. I hope you guys enjoyed the bonus P.O.V from Willow, and I'll try to write more extras if you guys want me to! Thank you all so much for the support!**

 **~ GladerGirl621 xx 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – Artistic Sketches**

I sigh wearily, resting my head in my upraised palm as my Trigonometry teacher discusses the importance of a trigonometry ratio.

It was third period, and I was practically dying to get to fourth. Fourth period was Art.

With Willow.

I only had Art once a week, so I had been waiting in physical pain for Friday. Art was a small class, so it would give me a good opportunity to talk to Willow.

Throughout the week, we hadn't made as much contact as I would have liked, but we would pass each other in the hallway and smile. Say hello if we were feeling especially confident.

It wasn't enough for me.

I wanted to see her and talk to her more. So I was going to make sure that this first class we had together was worth it.

As if taking pity on me, the bell finally decides to ring and I jump up from my seat, hastily gathering my books and making my way out of the classroom.

I speed-walk to the Art block and am the first one to class. Unusual for me.

The other students gradually arrive after me, and Willow arrives last.

My heart picks up a notch.

She's wearing a form-fitting black long-sleeve with a floral design, and red skinny jeans that hug her legs. To top it off, she walks in cream-coloured ballet flats.

Her beautiful black hair cascades down her back and her green eyes are wide and alert as she pauses at the entrance of the classroom.

Every head turns towards her.

She blushes prettily before walking away from the door and into the class. She stops as she searches for something.

A stupid part of me hopes she's searching for me.

Her gaze locks with mine before dropping to the empty seat on my right. She glances at me again before making her way over and I sit up a little straighter as she takes the seat.

I'd growled at anyone else who had dared to take it, and they'd backed off to find another seat.

She turns to me after placing down her books and smiles.

I smile back so widely, I feel like my face is going to crack in half.

She opens her mouth to say something, before a hand appears behind her and taps her on the shoulder. She looks startled and turns around, facing the person responsible.

I lean over to see who it is and almost snarl.

Richard Grayson.

Everybody calls him Dick, but I have my own reasons as to why.

He's the perfect model-type student with amazing blue eyes and black hair; add a killer, straight smile to top it all off. The one he's currently using on Willow.

I glare at him.

He doesn't pay me any attention, and his smile never fades in wattage.

"Hey, you're Willow, right?" He asks her, gently removing his hand from her shoulder.

I can see red rise in her neck and she coughs awkwardly, glancing down at a pencil on her desk.

"Um, yes. That's me." She replies, her voice trembling.

A sharp, unwelcomed pang of jealousy slices through me and I turn back to the head of the class, scowling and trying to focus, considering the fact that I won't be able to talk to Willow this lesson thanks to Dick.

So much for getting to know her.

I slump deep into my chair and listen to my Art teacher as Willow and Dick keep talking.

We have to paint an abstract portrait, Picasso-style, and use a tiny amount of a single colour in the piece. The rest has to be in black and white.

 _Abstract. The type of art project I like, at least._

The thought cheers me up by the barest degree.

The teacher sends us on our way, and I wearily get up and trail Willow and Dick to the art smocks hanging on the wall. They continue their chatter, and I tense up as Willow chuckles carefully at something Dick says. He grins back at her, all cocky self-assurance.

I fix my stare on his face and study the emotion in his eyes. Where his smile was friendly and innocent, his eyes told another story. Glee was prominent, but not the usual, ignorant kindness. It was the type of glee that said: _I'm still as good as everyone thinks I am._ Dark and hungry, he looked like a predator hunting his prey.

Willow his meal.

Dick grabs an art smock and offers one to Willow, which she takes. He heads over to an easel, tying the string on his smock before gesturing for her to come and sit with him.

She opens her mouth to reply, but snaps it shut and glances at me with guilt in her eyes.

I drop my gaze quickly and grab a smock off the wall, pretending to act distracted. I pull it over my head and attempt to tie the string at my neck, my hands fumbling with embarrassment.

She shouldn't feel guilty if she wants to sit with Dick. He has natural animal appeal, which made it entirely understandable as to why she would want to sit with him.

In my peripheral vision, I see Willow pause before walking.

Yep. Dick Grayson's charm is still in check.

I sigh to myself miserably before I feel someone's hands move my own out of the way, and take on the job of tying my smock.

I turn my head in surprise and see Willow behind me, knotting the strings. Her hands gently brush my neck as she ties the final loop, and goose bumps immediately break out over my skin.

She smiles up at me and after a moment, I smile back with a satisfaction I shouldn't feel. But, I can't help it. She just refused Dick's offer, to help me. And I didn't even ask!

"Do you think you can help me with mine?" She asks nervously.

"Sure." I say and she steps in front of me, grabbing her hair and pulling it over one shoulder as she waits.

With trembling hands, I pick up the strings and begin to tie a bow at her neck, my fingers automatically seeking the contact of her skin.

Once I finish tying the knot, I remove my hands and she shivers slightly; an action I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been watching her so intently.

She turns towards me and gazes at her feet, rocking on her heels.

"Um, so…" She begins, keeping her eyes trained on her feet.

I raise an eyebrow.

"Yes?" I prompt.

She flicks her meadow-coloured eyes up to me and swallows thickly.

"I was wondering if you wanted to work in a pair for the art project. I'm not too confident with abstract art so I thought we could work on it together or something…?"

She trails off, her voice now unsure.

Little did she know, she had me at 'um, so…'

"I would love that." I say softly and her unease dissipates as she sighs with relief.

I glance up at Dick and see him glaring at me, but sputtering at the same time. It was extremely rare for a girl to turn down _the_ Dick Grayson. In fact, the only time I remember he was turned down was in the 9th grade.

Dick had been crazy in love with a girl called Barbara, and was always trying to gain her approval. She hated the attention though, and was well aware of his status at school: player. The time he finally gathered his courage and asked her out, she rejected him. Harshly, if I do say so myself.

That was the only time Dick had ever been rejected, and he had practically sobbed like a baby at the time. That kind of experience teaches you to grow a pair of balls and move on.

Currently, he was taking deep breaths in and out to compose himself.

I felt like punching him in the face.

He can't always get every girl he wants. Suck it up buttercup.

I turn back to Willow and smile at her; I've been doing that a lot and I can't seem to help it. I always feel like smiling around her.

She returns the smile and we walk over to an easel away from Dick.

He scowls.

I gesture for Willow to take the stool at the easel and I drag another one over for myself. My head is buzzing with ideas for what to paint, but I hold myself back from spitting them all out.

Willow loves art; I don't want to ruin anything by suggesting my lame ideas.

"So, do you have an idea of what you would like to paint?" I ask her after a moment. She blushes and scratches the back of her neck.

"I was thinking we could use an idea of yours."

I glance at her in mild surprise and quickly drop my head before she catches my own blush.

"One of mine? Mine aren't very good or inspiring." I say, my eyes gazing longingly at the paintbrushes, regardless of my last statement.

She nudges my shoulder with her own and those sparks of electricity crackle through my shoulder.

"I saw the way your face lit up when the teacher said 'abstract art'. I know you have many ideas that are very likely to be amazing." She says with a smile. "Besides, you're staring at the paintbrushes as if you're starving and they're your last meal." This time, she laughs outright and I beam.

She'd been watching me while I thought she was paying attention to Dick.

Score 2 for River.

"Okay, well, I was thinking we could paint a person. And, use the single bright colour for a specific feature on their face, to draw attention to it." I look over at her hesitantly and see her nodding her head in agreement.

"That sounds great. What feature do you want the colour to be on?" She questions.

I study her dark hair and her heart-stopping eyes.

"The eyes." I say dazedly, only half paying attention.

She drops her gaze, embarrassed.

"Okay, sure. Let's start."

We sketch the basics of the picture for the rest of the lesson, and I can't help but watch Willow as she draws.

She was as an artist.

Her hands are skilful as she traces outlines and lightly shades. The slender bones in her fingers move fluidly and gracefully as she pencils the face of our abstract piece.

Ours.

I could definitely get used to saying that.

All too soon, the bell rings, and I'm reluctant to leave. I sigh to myself. Another week to wait.

I hang up my smock and Willow hangs up hers.

After gathering our books, Dick shooting us a jealous glance and storming out, we walk side by side to our lockers, discussing our art project.

"You are excellent at sketching." I say to her with a grin, feeling more comfortable.

She laughs.

"No, I'm not. I just do it because it takes my mind off of things at–" She cuts herself off, gaze dropping and happiness fading. "Uh, never mind."

I frown at her in concern.

"At…?" I inquire.

She looks up at me reluctantly and studies my face.

"At… home." She says, shame clouding her features.

Home?

As in… oh, no.

I stop walking and Willow stops beside me, her face remaining lowered.

"Hey," I say, and without thinking, I raise my hand to her cheek. "It's okay. I have… trouble at home as well."

Alarm bells race through my head. _Warning. Warning._

I don't know why I said that. I haven't told anyone before. Not even Aston.

Her face is soft and smooth as she raises her head and blinks up at me, leaning slightly into my hand.

"You do?" She whispers and I nod, tense.

Why did I say that? I've only known her a week! I've known Aston for 3 years.

She seems to realise my sudden unease, so she lightly grabs my hand from her cheek and clutches it between both of hers. Her rainforest eyes glitter up at me, earnest.

"If you need anything, if here for you." She says.

"Same for you." I return.

She smiles and I automatically smile back, loving the feeling of warm that spreads through me. I haven't felt this happy or safe in a very long time.

She drops my hand and we finish the walk to the lockers, stopping at numbers 214 and 215.

Aston is already at 216, leaning against the metal wall of lockers, arms crossed and causally checking out girls walking past him. He even wolf-whistles at a blonde that struts past him, who bats her lashes at him flirtatiously.

He grins as he shakes his head and turns to Willow and I. He nods at me, then winks after he does a double-take at Willow.

I roll my eyes and open my locker, shoving my books inside of it before slamming it shut. Willow is struggling with her lock again, so I do it for her. Again. I've had to do it for her every day this week.

She snorts.

I laugh and turn to Aston, who raises an eyebrow.

Only when he executes the action do I study his face properly. Bags have taken place under his eyes, and branches of tension leech from his face.

He's struggling with something.

I place my hand on his shoulder, asking him a question and offering what support I can. He just nods.

I quickly turn around to Willow, and see that she's just closing her locker.

"Hey, so I was thinking maybe we could meet up on the weekend? We could work on our art project." I say hesitantly, feeling vulnerable.

She nods.

"Sure, that would be perfect," she says before pausing. "I'll give you my number." She continues.

She digs through her bag and produces a piece of paper and a pen, and she hastily scribbles some numbers before handing the paper out to me.

"Here." She says, pink colouring her cheeks.

My heart beats faster. I'd never been given a girl's number. I hadn't even given a girl my own.

Our father says that we shouldn't have contact with people of the opposite gender. When I'd asked him why, he'd kicked me.

Fuck him.

I rip off a blank space from the paper she'd given me and confiscate her pen, using it to write my own number before I can even register what I'm doing.

I hand it out to her and she takes it.

"Thank you." We say at the same time, and I grin sheepishly at her.

She clutches my number to her chest and waves at me, then Aston, before walking off, her step light and carefree.

Score 3 for River. 2 points in less than 2 hours.

It must be my lucky day.

"Whoa, did you just get her digits?" Aston remarks from behind me.

I turn back around to him, grinning.

"Yup." I reply casually, as if getting a girl's number was totally normal for me. Which it most definitely wasn't.

Aston shakes his head to clear off awe, and nods at me.

"Hey, you wanna catch up after school?" He asks and I nod at him absentmindedly, staring at Willow's number.

"Great." He says and bumps knuckles with me before sauntering off to who knows where.

 _I got her number._

My body has registered it, but my mind clearly needs a few more minutes to catch up.

 _I actually got her number._

I open my locker again and carefully place the piece of paper in my bag, but jump back when my locker door is slammed in front of my face.

I look to my right and see Dick glaring at me. I turn back to my locker as if I haven't a care, and re-open it.

"Stay away from her." His voice snarls from beside me.

I make a point of ignoring him, despite the hint of anger that boils in my stomach. He shoves my shoulder hard, but I barely move an inch.

It evidently shocks him, as he staggers back a little to regain his balance.

"Are you listening to me? I said stay away from her." He repeats in his defence.

I sigh and turn towards him, fighting the urge to punch him.

"Yes, Dick, I did hear you. I just chose simply not to answer." I say and close my locker door, much softer than he had.

His eyes narrow further and he has to tilt his head slightly to meet my gaze square on. I choke back on a chuckle.

"She doesn't like you. She feels sorry for you. She knows what a piece of trash you are and takes pity on your pathetic–" But Dick doesn't finish his sentence as I shove him backwards.

He lands on his butt and stares up at me with anger in his eyes, but also a gleam of satisfaction. The bastard wants me to be pissed at him.

 _I'll make him wish he hadn't._ I think as my mind blanks and red clouds my vision.

"Don't you fucking dare talk to me like that." I spit in his face. "You know nothing about me and I suggest that you don't try to because little boy? You're going to get hurt."

And with that, I turn on my heel and stomp down the corridor, the red fading and already regretting my outburst. I feel guilty. I shouldn't waste precious emotions such as guilt on that ass, but I can't help it. I hate getting mad.

It reminds me of my father; I do not want to be like him.

I place two fingers on the bridge of my nose and massage.

Ugh, I feel a serious headache coming on.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – From The Lowest Low, To The Highest High**

The bell blares loudly across the classroom, indicating the finishing of the school day.

I stack my books carefully on top of one another, before picking them up and making my way out of the door.

I walk through the corridors, dodging in and out of the crowd of people who are pushing and shoving. I spot my locker over the sea of faces, its number barely visible. I take a breath and barrel through the eager swarm, heading towards my locker, when a shove on my shoulder sends me stumbling backwards.

Turning around to tell however it is to watch it, I see the piercing ice eyes of Dick Grayson, who glares at me and snarls the words 'fuck you'.

I glare right back and straighten to my full height, giving him the finger for good measure.

He whips his body around haughtily, with a slight flash of fear in his eyes, and saunters down the hallway, disappearing around a corner.

Not before sticking his hand back into my line of vision and giving _me_ the finger of course.

I glare at the spot where he had previously been and rub my shoulder as I take the finishing steps to my locker.

Opening it quickly, I shove the necessary books inside my bag and zip it up, gently picking up the crisp piece of paper that holds Willow's phone number.

I slam my locker door shut and do a double-take, because Willow herself has suddenly appeared beside me.

She smiles sheepishly as she turns the combo on her lock, and surprisingly, it opens.

I raise my eyebrows at her.

"Someone's been practising." I remark.

She laughs and once again I am reminded of angels.

"You had to help me open my locker at lunch _today_. I can't practise in the span of 2 hours; this is just a fluke."

I chuckle along with her and lean against my locker, crossing my arms.

I don't know why I keep laughing. I haven't laughed in so long, I thought I had lost the physical capability of doing so.

But with Willow…

It's different. She's changed me somehow.

I don't what part of me has changed quite yet, but I'll figure it out eventually.

What surprises me the most, however, is the fact that I _like_ that she's changing me. I usually loathe and neglect any form of something out of the ordinary in my life, but the fact that I'm smiling and laughing more doesn't bother me.

She seems happier too for some reason.

I haven't known Willow for very long, but even then, I'm under the impression she doesn't find happiness often either.

My mood ups another notch at the thought of _me_ being the one making her smile.

My ego does too.

Subconsciously, I can feel my shirt straining slightly against my arms as I lean forward and lower my eyelids, in what I hope is seduction.

I hadn't had much experience with flirting, but the best way to learn is to try, right?

Willow flicks her gaze to me warily as she notices my sudden proximity, but regardless of her cautiousness, her eyes betray her as they slowly trail down to my biceps and chest, before halting at my navel.

I widen my eyes and lean slightly back again in disbelief.

Was she…

Was she checking me out?

Self-consciousness floods me. I feel the heat travelling up my neck before my brain even registers it, and I quickly cough, scratching my head.

Now that I have the feeling that I have succeeded in non-communicative flirting, I feel even more goofily embarrassed.

She widens her own eyes – as if realizing what she was doing – and pointedly focuses on her books again.

"Um," she mumbles as she zips up her bag. "I look forward to seeing you this weekend."

This time, I do blush, and I smile like an idiot.

"Me too." I say.

She gives me a shy smile and farewell wave, before hoisting her backpack onto her shoulders and walking back down the hallway.

My smile doesn't fade as I re-adjust my own bag and turn around, jumping when I see Aston standing before me.

Good Lord, people everywhere.

"Hey man," I say, bumping knuckles with him.

"Hey." He replies, his eyes on the floor.

I narrow my eyes. Something's wrong.

"What happened?" I question immediately, noticing how Aston already has his backpack.

He got to the lockers before me?

My frown deepens.

Now there's not just something wrong, there's something disastrously wrong.

Aston usually lags behind after class to pick up chicks, but the fact that he was already prepared to leave, with a swarm of good-looking girls walking by us, meant that something was definitely up.

"Nothing happened man, nothing happened. Um, can we talk?" He questions, shuffling his feet.

What was going on?

"We were already planning to do that were we not? You asked to meet up after school, remember?" I remind him.

He shakes his head and ploughs a hand through his hair.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot asking you that." He laughs shakily.

"Aston, what the hell is going on?" I ask.

He sighs.

"Look, um, I only found out the other day but…" He trails off.

I don't think I can remain calm for much longer; anticipation was currently my enemy.

"Spit it out bro."

He closes his eyes, and takes a breath.

"Okay, I'm kinda maybe sorta moving schools and I wasn't sure how to tell you, so I'm just blurting it out right now and I know you're probably gonna hate me and I'm sorry but I'm really nervous and I'd really appreciate it if you didn't yell?"

He releases his breath and opens one eye in apology.

I stare at him, shocked.

He's…

He's _moving_?

"You're moving?"

Sadness fills his eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah I am man. Trust me, I fought my parents on it for a while, but there's… there's nothing I can do, man. I'm sorry." He says as his shoulders slump in shame.

I shake my head to clear off my surprise, and the sudden wave of melancholy.

He had been my friend for a good 5 years, and we had been through thick and thin together, and now he was just… moving?

Something seemed odd, but I didn't question it.

"Hey," I say as I place a hand on his shoulder, "it's alright."

More to assure myself than him I think.

I pull him into a tense hug, and he claps his hands on my back. I feel his shoulders quiver slightly and when he pulls away, his eyes are shiny.

I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from crying. There is no way I'm crying in front of Aston.

"So, when are you leaving?" I question him.

He lowers his eyes and rubs them with his hands.

"Next week."

I sigh with relief. We have another week.

"Okay, then. Are we gonna walk to the bus?" I say, trying to act like things were normal.

They weren't.

"Um, I can't. I'm gonna head over to Cindy's house. Bit of some-some for me, hey?" Aston replies, grinning through his watery features, trying to be himself.

I give a short, curt laugh, proving difficult thanks to the lump that had formed in my throat.

"Aha definitely. Then I'll see you tomorrow on the bus?"

His smile turns small and solemn.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow." He replies, hiking his bag against his shoulders and walking past me, nodding in good bye.

I feel my lower lip and chin trembling as I head in the opposite direction.

Only when I leave school, get on the bus back home and run up to my room do I let the tears fall.

I had slammed the bedroom door shut, and slid a chair under the knob for good measure. Milla and Caro were currently banging on the door, asking what was going on.

"I don't want to talk about it." I shout through the door.

"What's wrong with you? Ever since you got home you've been weird. You were fine this morning!" Milla yells back.

"Leave me alone!"

I hear Caroline sigh through the peeling plaster.

"Riv, it's okay. You can talk to us," She pauses. "Well, you can talk to me at least."

This earns her a remark of 'hey!' from Camilla.

My anger and upset slowly fade as the last drops of water fall from my face. I take a deep breath and place my head in my hands, calming myself.

I sigh wearily as I hear footsteps and then quiet on the opposite side of the door.

Getting up after a moment's hesitation, I walk over to the knob and slowly turn, opening the door by the slightest gap.

Half of Caroline's nurturing face stares up at me.

Milla is gone.

I sigh again and open the door wider, letting Caro inside.

She brushes past me and climbs up to the top of the bunk-bed, throwing her legs over the top railing.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened?" She asks gently, swinging her feet back and forth.

Even though her tone was nothing but kind, I couldn't help feeling like she was being facetious and condescending.

I shouldn't be thinking that of my sister; she was just concerned and was looking out for me. Deep down, I knew that.

I scrub a hand down my face.

"Look, I'm sorry about before. For yelling at you? It's just… Aston's moving. Alright? Aston's moving." I say, my voice breaking pathetically.

Her face crumples in sympathy and she jumps off of the top bunk, landing with a soft thump on the carpet.

"Oh, Riv" Is all she says as she wraps her slim arms around me and gives me a hug.

I hug her back and bury my face in her shoulder, a soft whimper escaping.

Apparently I wasn't done crying.

Lord, I felt stupid.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do." I mumble into her neck and tear-stained shirt.

I feel her body shake as she laughs.

"Yes you will. You always find a way. You'll get through this." She assures me.

Petty words to make me feel better is what my mind tells me, but my heart tells me that they're true.

Caro had a special way of doing that.

I _can_ find a way.

I draw away from her and wipe my eyes, taking a shaky breath.

"Sorry. I drenched your shirt."

She glances down at her top and then back up at me.

"Don't worry about it." She smiles.

Her hand reaches up and gives my cheek an affectionate pat, before she heads out of the room, leaving the door open behind her.

I feel significantly better as I head down the stairs and help prepare dinner.

Ravioli and napolitana sauce.

Milla doesn't look at me as she stirs the sauce, and I feel guilty for snapping at her earlier.

"Milla, I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier. I was just upset about something that happened at school. I shouldn't have taken that out on you." I say as I take out some bowls.

She flicks a glance at me and nods.

"I know. Caro told me." She sighs and halts her stirring, placing down the wooden spoon.

After a moment, she turns to me and shocks me to the core when she wraps her arms around my middle.

I widen my eyes and my arms sort of hang in suspense, before eventually encompassing her back tentatively.

She pulls away and raises her head.

"I'm sorry." She says and smiles, before announcing that she will go and wake up mother. Camilla walks up the stairs, her step light.

I take over Milla's job of checking the sauce until she returns, with our mother looking fresh and, surprisingly, content.

The drugs have probably worn out of her system. For today at least.

Milla helps her into her seat at the table, and our mother stares up at her, mildly shocked. I don't think she expected such an action from her.

She just sits there, watching in awe as Milla flicks out our mother's napkin and lays it across her lap. Once my sister is sure that mother is comfortable, she heads back over into the kitchen.

I hand Milla the wooden spoon and pat her shoulder, smiling at her goodness.

She returns the smile with genuine happiness and takes the spoon, humming a song as she stirs the sauce.

I trail my gaze back to our mother and see her watching me, a hint of pride in her eyes.

I lower my gaze again.

My sisters and I go through the usual routine of preparation, and by the time everything is on the table, our father is swinging open the door with gusto.

I smile with relief.

A good day at work.

"Good evening, father." I say politely as he hangs up his case and unknots his tie. We all stand in a line with our hands folded.

He glances briefly at us, assesses our mother already at the table and the dinner steaming in bowls, before busting out an overly-cheery grin.

"Good evening, you little bastards." He says, and heads over to his seat, gesturing for us to sit down.

We take our spots and begin eating, once our father takes the first mouthful.

He mumbles as he chews the food.

My heartbeat picks up.

Shit, I hope we cooked the pasta well enough.

I knew how my father liked it; al dente.

"This is some fucking good dinner." He announces as he swallows.

I smile broadly at the complement and so do my sisters.

"I had a feeling today was going to be a good day. So," Our father says as he reaches into his suit jacket pocket, "you all shall be rewarded."

He pulls out 3 lollipops, each one a different colour.

My siblings and I gape.

Our father had always considered candy a privilege that we didn't deserve, and now he was handing out lollipops. Happily.

 _Did I sprinkle any crack in that sauce?_ I think to myself as I hesitantly take the candy he was waving in front of my face.

"Thank-you, father." I say and my sisters hastily give their thanks.

He leans back, satisfied.

Once we finish dinner and the cleaning up, Milla and Caro head up the stairs, whispering excitedly to each other about their treats, and undoubtedly go to devour them.

I hang back a while, staring at the piece of sugar in my hand.

My father and mother are sitting on the couch, watching some useless crap on the television.

His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, and he even kisses the top of her head.

I raise my eyebrows.

He must have had a _very_ good day at work.

Shaking my head, I walk up the stairs, only halting when I hear my father's voice from behind me.

"River."

I turn my head around and nod.

"Sir?"

He studies me for a minute, just observing my face, before he glares.

"Make sure you pick up the shit on your floor before you go to sleep tonight." He says, and I nod tensely.

"Of course, father."

He nods and turns back to the television.

Once I shower and prepare for bed, I head to my room and see Caro and Milla fast asleep in their bunk-bed, clean and comfy.

I smile at the two of them and flick on my lamp, tidying up the room until it's spotless.

Once satisfied with my handiwork, I fumble through my school bag and pull out Willow's phone number.

Taking a deep breath, I grab my phone and type in her number.

I press the call button, holding my breath.

While the phone rings, I glance at the time: 9:00pm.

Hopefully I wasn't calling too late.

"Hello?"

Her beautiful voice travels through the phone, and I almost drop it.

"Um, hey." I say, feeling embarrassed for no particular reason.

"Hey." She says back, and I can hear excitement in her voice as she recognises me.

"I was just calling to ask what day and time you wanted to meet up."

"Um… would tomorrow be okay? I'm fairly sure I'm free around 1?" She questions.

My chest blooms with a feeling I cannot identify.

"Yeah, that would be great." I reply.

 _Say something else!_

"Uh, I can bring some sketch ideas on our art project, if you'd like?" I ask her hesitantly.

Her slightly digitalized laugh carries through my phone and I smile to myself.

"That would be great, River." She says, and this time I don't just smile, I beam.

I love the way she says my name.

It sounds like her lips want to tenderly caress every syllable.

Her lips…

"Um, so I'll see you tomorrow?" I say in an effort to interrupt my own thoughts.

"Definitely."

And even though I can't see her, I can sense her smile as I say good-night to her.

"Good-night, River." She says softly, and we both hang up the phone.

Placing the device of the bedside table, I turn out the light and pull the covers of my comforter up to my chin, grinning to myself and feeling pure and unadulterated joy as I fall asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – Art In The Park**

My alarm goes off loudly, the shrill sound making me fall out of bed in surprise.

I land with an 'oof!' on the ground before quickly standing up, slamming my hand over the buzzer so Camilla and Caroline don't wake up.

The piercing dinging finally stops and I glance at my sisters, who are slightly disturbed, but otherwise still asleep.

I sigh with relief.

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I stretch and yawn, halting when I realize where I'm going today.

Excitement bubbles in my stomach, then pops as I frown.

I don't actually know _where_ I'm going, I only know _who_ I'm going with.

I grab my phone off of my bedside table and punch in Willow's number, glancing at the time, which is 9:30 am.

Not too early.

The phone rings a few times before Willow finally picks up, her tired voice answering.

"Hello?" She asks groggily.

Maybe it is too early.

"Oh crap, did I wake you up?" I ask nervously.

"River? Oh, no you didn't! I've been up for a while." Her tone instantly brightening.

I smile, my nervousness fading.

I knew she hadn't, but it felt nice that she was trying to act like she had.

"I was just calling to ask _where_ exactly you wanted to meet today, because I forgot to ask you that last night…" I trail off.

I hear shuffling in the background of the phone as Willow moves.

"Oh! Um, do you know Isley Park?" She questions.

"Yeah, I know that park." I say, my happiness climbing.

I _loved_ that park actually.

It was the place where my sisters and I did most of our own art.

It had an aura about it. Perhaps a dreamy and inspirational one; the park held meaning and something that sparked the artistic side in people.

That's what I thought anyway.

"Great, um, I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to meet up a bit earlier, because something's come up last minute." Willow says.

Something bothers me about the way she says it, but I don't question it.

"Yeah, that's no problem. Do you wanna get coffee or something?" I ask her.

Coffee.

Mmm.

I haven't had coffee in a while and quite frankly, I miss it.

"Coffee sounds good." She says and inwardly, I cheer.

Caffeine!

"Okay, so meet up at Isley in half an hour? If that's alright with you." I rush out.

"Sure, 10 is fine." She confirms.

I fist bump the air as quietly as I can, before putting on a careless tone.

"Cool, I'll see you soon."

"See you."

I hang up the phone and make my bed, thankful to my yesterday's self for cleaning up the majority of the room already.

Milla and Caro are still sleeping, so I walk over to the closet as quietly as I can to avoid waking them.

I don't make a sound as I open the closet doors and select my best black jeans, a Linkin Park singlet-top, a red snap-back and a plaid long-sleeved shirt.

I head to the shower, hearing my parents asleep as I turn on the water.

I let the water run down my back, loving the feeling of warmth as I wash my body with a soap that smells like vanilla.

Hopping out, I snatch a towel and quickly dry off, getting dressed in my chosen clothes and gelling up my hair slightly before pulling on my snap-back.

To finish, I quickly spray some deodorant and a hint of cologne that was meant to smell like 'a crisp and refreshing ocean breeze'.

Whatever. As long as it smells good. Which it did.

I stare at my reflection afterwards.

Not too bad at all.

I quickly tidy the bathroom, making sure it was spotless as well; I was less likely to be called on by my father if everything was already clean.

I slowly open the bathroom door, turning my back to the hallway as I close it as softly as possible behind me. I turn back around afterwards, and almost yell as I see Camilla standing in front of me.

She jumps as I make a strangled sort of sound to cut off my scream, and I put a hand to my chest, steadying myself.

"Sorry!" She whispers at me.

"You scared the crap out of me, Milla!" I whisper-yell at her, my heartbeat settling.

"Why are you sneaking around at quarter-to-ten?" She asks, looking me up and down. "And why do you smell weird?"

I fumble around for an answer, consider lying and then opt to tell the truth.

"Look, I'm going to meet up with this girl – Shh!" I say harshly to Milla as she gasps. "And, I can't let anyone know I'm gone." I pause. "Do you think you can help me not blow my cover?"

She raises an eyebrow and lowers her eyes, uncertain.

"Please, Milla. It would mean the world to me if you could keep mother and father distracted for just a couple of hours. This girl…" I sigh.

Camilla makes a 'yuk' sound, pauses for a moment, then finally nods her head.

"Okay." She looks up at me sharply when I grin. "Only because I can't stand this sappy romance stuff. Seriously, it's like hearing the audio-book of Twilight."

Even though her disgusted tone and comeback would be enough to fool anyone else, it doesn't fool me.

I can see how happy she is for me in her eyes, but I can also detect sadness. Almost as if she wanted what I had.

I give her a sympathetic hug.

"Thank-you, Milla. And don't worry," I whisper in her ear. "You'll have boys chasing after you some day, I guarantee. And if they're not already, it's because they have absolutely no taste. Meaning, they do not deserve someone as amazing as you." I say and Milla laughs, before I softly 'shh' her again.

"Thanks, Riv." She says. "By the way, when are we goin' to train this week?"

Training?

Oh, shit.

I completely forgot about training.

I think for a second before a lightbulb goes off.

"Tomorrow. We can train tomorrow. I'll even ring Mace, if you want?" I ask in the spirit of my excitement to meet Willow.

Her eyes light up.

"Really?!" Milla whisper-squeals.

No matter how much I despise the bastard Mace, if Milla's happy then that's all that matters.

I sigh.

"Sure. We can even have one of those ballet recital things you and Caro like to do after training." I say, and Milla squeezes me so tight, I can't breathe.

"Milla. Can't. Breathe." I gasp out.

"Oh, sorry!" She quickly releases me and claps me on the shoulder instead.

"Alright, I'll keep Mommy and Daddy distracted. Now hurry up and go!" She orders.

I flash her a quick grin before racing back into our bedroom to grab my black Converse, spying Caro still sleeping soundly on the top bunk.

I grab my backpack off of the floor and gently pack in my sketch ideas, Willow and I's art project, my phone and my wallet, before racing back out of the room.

I pass Milla again on the way downstairs, and I give her a quick kiss on her head.

"Love you, Milla." I say as I rush past her.

"Love you, too." She responds to my retreating figure.

I slide out of the door and outside, almost slipping over thanks to the fresh puddles, and the rain that has just started to fall.

Locking the door, I walk carefully down the driveway and to the bus stop, waiting for the bus to Isley Park.

When it arrives, I practically jump on and pay for a ticket, before heading to the middle, ignoring the stares I get from some girls on the bus.

I swing into a seat and take out my phone, seeing the time is almost 10:00.

Plugging in my earphones, I put on a playlist of Red and My Chemical Romance that I had prepared earlier.

I even nod my head along with the beat of the songs.

Start drumming on my legs when a particularly loud chorus comes on.

As I am looking out the window, I don't notice the girl that is apparently sauntering down the bus isle and sliding into the seat next to me.

I only notice when she slides a too-thin and too-tanned arm around the back of my seat.

Double-taking at her, I edge closer towards the window.

"Can I help you?" I ask her, annoyed as I turn down my music.

She bats her extremely fake eyelashes at me and I try not to snap at her.

"Yes, you certainly can help me." She says as she slides her other hand on to my leg.

I glare at her.

She doesn't seem to notice.

As her hand inches closer to an area she shouldn't be touching, I grab her wrist.

"Ooo, this is moving fast, don't ya think?" She giggles.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I snarl at her and she flinches slightly, a dint finally made in her desperate girly façade. "I'm taken."

She widens her eyes and her over-lip glossed mouth gapes.

Probably never experienced rejection before.

After another flabbergasted moment, she seems to compose herself and her eyelids lower to half-mast.

"Well, I shouldn't have expected anything less. Sexy guy like you and all." Is her finishing statement as she struts back to the front of the bus, looking only a bit shaken at the fact her flirting didn't work.

I turn back to the window, cranking up my music and edging as far away from the opposite seat as possible, shaking my head.

I don't why I said I was taken when I most certainly wasn't.

Because I didn't want that girl near me sure, but I think subconsciously, I _wanted_ to be taken. I wanted to be wanted by someone special.

Someone like Willow.

I smile in disbelief at my craziness as the bus finally pulls up at Isley Park. I leap off of the bus and land in a puddle, laughing at my own silliness.

Lord, I loved this feeling.

Happy, carefree.

Like a normal teenager should be.

I keep a light jog as I make my way to the front of the park, waiting in front of the old-fashioned bottle-green coloured gate.

My eyes search up and down the street, and I try to not look too needy as I search for Willow.

As my gaze follows another bus going past, I do a double-take.

There she was, across the road.

In all her ethereal beauty.

Willow was making her way across the street, jumping widely to avoid stepping in puddles.

She wore a maroon-coloured long-sleeve that hugged her curves perfectly, black skinny jeans, dark grey ankle boots with a silver buckle and small heel, and a deep navy blue trench coat that was probably woven by fairies.

Her hands were shoved deep into the pockets of her coat, and her cheeks were flushed a bright pink due to the cold.

Black curls ran wild, the wind blowing them into her face as her green eyes scanned the area, shining with excitement.

And her lips…

The lips I thought so often about were a beautiful red, so full and plush. I think I'm literally standing with my jaw dropping onto the pavement.

I don't think I'm the only one either.

I see the looks that random strangers give Willow as she walks past them, ignorantly unaware. I want to punch all of those guys out.

I'm about to walk over to her, when one guy suddenly grabs her shoulder. She turns around in surprise and quickly yanks her shoulder back, stepping away from him.

He says something to her, something revolting, judging by the greedy look on his face.

She backs away further from him, but he gives chase, stalking forward even closer and grabbing her waist.

That's it.

I walk over to Willow as casually as I can and stand up behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

She flinches and tries to move away, probably thinking I'm another creep.

"Baby, is everything alright?" I say to her, and she glances up, stopping her struggling.

She gazes at me with wide eyes and I wink at her, trying to get her to play along.

She smiles.

"Yeah, I'm fine babe." She says, leaning into me.

My body heats up.

I turn my focus casually to the short, pudgy guy before us and straighten to my full height, staring at the hand that is still grabbing her.

His arm drops from her waist.

"You wanna keep walking now?" I say innocently, leaning my face close to his.

The idiot tries to stand his ground, standing up straighter and glaring at me.

Also known as, glaring at a brick wall.

Bit by bit, I see his confidence slowly fade as I do nothing but stare at him.

He eventually coughs.

"Yeah, I'll keep walking. Didn't know she was unavailable. Sorry." With that, the guy turns and speed-walks away from us, proving difficult thanks to his size.

I don't take my arm off of Willow as I steer her in the direction of the park.

"Thank-you." She says to me, wrapping her arm around my waist.

I flick my gaze down to her as I feel her hand rest on my stomach, and I try to fight a smile.

"No problem." I say.

Her head rests against my shoulder as we walk through the park, watching the array of colours surround us.

I pay particular attention to the trees, loving how they sway in the wind.

I notice Willow watching a family playing with a Frisbee, a little girl jumping up and gleefully catching it as her mother cheers.

She sighs wistfully and I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze, not knowing the reason behind her sudden sadness, but wanting to assure her anyway.

She gazes up at me and gives a soft smile, before settling her head back onto my shoulder.

As we make our way through the centre of the park, we pass a coffee stand.

Yes.

"You want some coffee?" I ask Willow, trying not to sound like I was practically drooling for it.

She looks up at me again and studies my face before grinning. Dang it, she knew.

"Sure, I'm dying for it." She says and I laugh.

"Same here." I say as we make our way to the barista in the stand.

I order two grande chocolate mochas with caramel – both for myself – and Willow orders a regular skinny vanilla latte.

She snorts as I struggle to hold my two coffees while paying.

"Do you want some help?" She asks as she goes to hand her money over to the guy.

"No, I'm good. Aye! You ain't paying." I chastise as I finally grab out the money for our coffees.

I flick Willow's hand away from the cashier as I hand over $15.00.

"River." She admonishes as I pay for her coffee.

I glance over at her, still trying to hold my own coffee.

"What? I'm being a gentleman." I joke as I finally get a grip on the large to-go cups in my hands.

She tinkles another laugh and re-wraps her arm around my waist, my smile widening further. With effort, I manoeuver one of arms back around her shoulders, being careful not to spill coffee on her shoulder.

We keep walking down a concrete path until we eventually find a nice grassy spot under a weeping willow.

I laugh at the coincidence and so does Willow.

What a fitting name for the tree.

She removes her arm from me, and I mourn the loss of her contact as I also remove mine.

We settle underneath the shade of the tree, and I place down my coffees and take off my backpack, grabbing out our art project.

Currently, we had the face of a girl sketched largely across the canvas, her features strikingly similar to Willow's.

I hadn't drawn the eyes yet, wanting to see them first-hand before putting them on to the painting.

Before I speak, I take a long drink of coffee, sighing as the warm liquid settles in my stomach and the richness of caramel and chocolate floods my tastebuds.

I close my eyes for a second, enjoying the drink, before I open them and gesture to the sketch of the girl.

"What do you think?" I ask Willow as I take another sip of coffee, the first cup almost empty already.

She takes a sip from hers and glances at the drawing, her legs tucked in beside her.

"Wow." She complements, her eyes widening. "It looks amazing."

I blush and point at the spot where the eyes should be.

"I may need your help with these." I say to her and she nods.

"Sure."

I drain the rest of my first coffee and start on the second, pulling out my paints and brushes.

Willow leans over the art supplies and picks up a fine brush. It was one of my favourites.

"Ready?" She asks and I nod, grabbing a brush for myself and opening up my black and white paint.

We finish sketching the face, Willow understanding exactly how I want the girl to look, and she nods enthusiastically when I ask if she thinks it looks alright.

Both our coffees are finished, so I quickly run and dump them in a bin before returning, the caffeine finally kicking in.

Once the shading and outlining are done, I finally grab a grey lead and gather the courage to ask Willow about the eyes.

"Willow?" I ask, and she glances up from the detail of the girl's hair.

"Yes?" She inquires.

I scratch the back of my head with the end of my grey lead.

"Um, I was going to ask if I could sketch _your_ eyes for the painting. You don't have to." I assure. "I just thought your eyes would match the bone structure of the face and…" I trail off, staring at her apprehensively.

She stares back, blinking in surprise.

Oh, crap. Now she probably thinks I'm crazy stalking her and the next thing that I say is going to be along the lines of: _can I keep a lock of your hair?!_

Then, she grins so widely, I honestly think her cheeks will touch her eyebrows.

"That would be awesome." She breathes and I sigh with relief.

"Okay, I'll just need you to sit a bit closer so I can see your eyes properly. And I don't mean that in any weird way; just so I can get the detail right." I rush out.

She giggles and leans closer. So close I can smell the fruity scent of shampoo from her hair. And the crisp scent of her perfume.

I cough and place the grey lead on the canvas, praying I won't stuff up.

I trace the pencil slowly and carefully, casting continuous glances up to her eyes.

I draw the shape of her eyes, then the iris, then the pupil, then the little details, like the tiny specks of gold in all that green.

When I eventually finish, I lean back and hope I got them right.

I gasp, staring at the picture and then at Willow. She frowns, turning towards the picture as well before gasping too.

The sketch was…

Perfect.

The eyes were just the right size and basically a mirror image of Willow's.

Willow gently traces her fingertips over the lines of the eyes, in awe.

"It was incredible before River, but now…" She trails off. "It's like staring at my own reflection."

"Is that a good thing?" I chuckle.

"Yes!" She exclaims as she suddenly jumps on top of me, laughing.

I fall backwards and laugh along with her as I hold her waist, steadying her above me. Willow's laughter eventually concludes to a breathless giggle and as she gazes down at me, my body suddenly becomes well aware of the one on top of me.

I roll her over quickly and smoothly, placing my legs between hers as my own laughter fades.

Her hands clutch my arms, all traces of humour gone and amusement being replaced with… something else.

Oh, Lord help me.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – Art In The Park (Part 2)**

 _What are you doing?_ Safety-Comes-First-River shouts inside my head. _You've only known her for a week!_

The realization is like cold water being dumped on my face.

"Um…" I carefully lift myself off of her body. "Sorry." I finish, snapped out of my trance.

She sits up and leans back on her elbows, looking only slightly confused.

"That's okay." She says.

I look around to find something to stare at, other than her.

I focus back on the painting, and then the paints.

"Maybe we should finish the painting?" I ask her, hesitantly turning my head back to face her.

She's sitting completely upright now.

"Sure." She says, longing swirling in her eyes.

I look away.

That is, until she leans forward, her top gaping in front of me.

Not. Helping.

With physical restraint, I force my eyes back to the painting and start mixing up various shades of black and grey watercolour.

For the rest of the time in the park, Willow and I paint the picture, using the watercolour.

As the time hits 1:00, we only have to paint the eyes.

"Uh, what colour do you want to use for the eyes?" I ask Willow, coughing as my voice breaks.

We had barely spoken to each other for the 2 hours, only talking when we had an occasional small comment on the artwork.

She wipes her hair away from her forehead, and tucks the paintbrush behind her ear to keep it there.

"What colour do _you_ want to use?" She questions.

"I was thinking green because of, you know, _your_ eyes." I say, looking up at her.

She was smiling softly.

"Okay," She whispers. "Green it is."

With that, I mix up a watercolour to match her eyes and start working on the drawing, making the green as close to her actual eye colour as possible.

Another half an hour, and the entire painting is finished.

I stand up, brushing dirt off of my pants before grabbing Willow's hand and helping her up, another spark flying through my arm as we make contact.

She stands beside me, but doesn't let go of my hand.

And I don't want her to.

Sure, before I hadn't done what I had wanted to with her, but I could still hold her hand.

Right?

We gaze down at the piece of art and Willow sighs, resting her head on my shoulder again.

"It looks beautiful, River." She says quietly.

"Hey, you did most of the painting." I say. I didn't like taking a lot of credit.

"No, I didn't." She says, and gazes up at me.

I gaze back down at her, before flicking a glance to her lips.

A mistake.

Now I couldn't look away.

 _Stop it!_ My mind yells at me.

I groan and manage to tear my focus away from her.

"What?" She asks, hurt.

I close my eyes and use my free hand to rub my temple.

"It's just… I've only known you a week, and I don't want to do anything you or I might regret. But, if I keep staring at you, or touching you, I have a strong feeling that plan is going to fail." I say, peeking one eye open tentatively, fearing her reaction.

Her eyes are shining, but not with tears.

"So, does that mean you… like me? Or something?" She asks, hope in her words.

I look at her.

I look at her angelic face and hair and body.

I look at the painting we have both just completed together.

And I look at all of her inner beauty.

Yes, I did like her.

A lot.

"Yes." I whisper, praying that was what she wanted to hear as I focus pointedly on my feet.

People were right in saying how hard it is for a guy to admit his feelings to a girl. Hell, I'd only known this girl a week, making it a lot harder to determine how she was going to react to what I told her.

Her hand appears in my line of vision, and she places her fingers gently under my chin, lifting it up.

I look directly into her eyes, getting caught up in all that gorgeous green.

"I like you too." She whispers back to me, and my heart soars, my eyes going wide.

She liked me too?

I felt like someone should pinch me, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming and that this was reality.

Her phone rings all of a sudden, and we both jump.

Yup, reality.

She gives me an apologetic look and I wave her off.

"Answer it." I say as calmly as I can, considering the fact that the girl I had a crush on happened to have a crush on me.

She moves away and let's go of my hand, grabbing her phone from her purse and answering it.

"Hello?" She asks, and I hear someone shout from the other end of the line.

I flinch and so does she.

Inch by inch, I walk closer to her, standing beside her.

Whoever was on the other line continued to yell, and Willow listens for a while before finally trying to interject.

"No! Just– listen to me!" She pleads.

Her eyes gradually widen with panic at each word the other person screams into the phone.

I glare at the stupid device and gesture for Willow to put it on speakerphone.

She shakes her head in refusal for a second, before I gesture again.

She reluctantly puts the phone on speaker, and I listen to what this person was saying.

"You little bitch! How dare you sneak out without telling me! You are fucking in for it when you get home you hear me? Fucking little shit!" This… man yells at Willow.

I growl softly.

Her eyes are shining again, this time they _are_ with tears. She runs a hand through her hair.

"I'm sorry!" She sniffles.

"You better be you little bitch! You think your real Daddy would have let you do something like this too? I'm telling you right now he would be calling you up exactly like I am!"

At that line, Willow's sniffling stops and something hard settles in her eyes.

Her unexpectedly cold voice answers this man after a moment.

"You have no _fucking_ idea what my real Dad would have done." She snarls into her phone, and an uncomfortable silence greets her. "If you ever speak about him like that again, I assure you, you will be leaving the fucking house with your ass hitting the doorframe on the way out. You hear me?!" She cries and I place my hand on her lower back, trying to comfort her while being in partial shock over hearing her swear.

She takes a breath and hangs up the phone.

I stare at her, rubbing circles into her back, before pulling her into a hug.

She buries her face in my shoulder, and a soft sob escapes her lips.

Oh, shit…

"That guy is a fucking bastard, Willow." I say in her ear, and I promise to myself that that is the only time I will swear in such a way in front of her.

I feel her tears on my shirt, and I can't help remembering when I was crying on Caro's shoulder.

The feeling of seeing someone like this…

It's awful.

"He-he's my step-father." She stutters into my neck.

I don't say anything, just continue rubbing her back and breathing into her hair.

Reluctantly, I pull away from her and settle my hands on her waist, trying to figure out a way to prevent her from going back to the fuckwit at her house.

An idea hits me.

"Do… do you want to stay at mine for the night?" I whisper, my heart thumping loudly for a number of reasons.

One, Willow could possibly be staying in my house. For the night.

Two, I would have to make sure my parents didn't know, and if my father found out, he would be very unhappy.

And three, what would my sisters think of her?

Willow sniffles.

"I don't want to be an inconvenience." She mumbles.

"You would most definitely not be an inconvenience." I mumble back and she gives a watery laugh.

"No, it's alright. It would be better if I deal with Jason now rather than later." She says as she steps out of my grip to get her things and help pack up.

"What do you mean, 'deal with him'?" I ask her curiously and she glances up from the grass.

"If I avoid him for longer, I'm much more likely to get… well, you know." She says, shame fluttering over her face before she looks back down.

"What do you mean?" I ask her, already knowing the answer, but wanting proof.

She sighs wearily, then stands and rolls her long-sleeve up her arm.

I gasp.

Bruises in colours of blue, purple and yellow litter her fair arm.

I reach out and gently run a finger across one of them, feeling Willow tense underneath my touch.

"Does it hurt?" I ask her softly.

She bites her lip.

Shit.

I drop my arm weakly, and try to banish all thought of Willow getting hit out of my head.

If I don't, I'm probably going to follow her home and beat the crap out of this 'Jason' guy.

And he most likely won't get back up.

"Willow, I don't want you going home to that guy. He'll hurt you." I say, and I knew then that I wouldn't be letting Willow go home to her step-father.

She knew it too.

"River, he won't hurt me. I know when he will. But he knows he crossed a line bringing up my… father." She ends, her voice breaking. "So, he won't." She gazes sadly up at me.

"Willow, you are _not_ going home to him, he _will_ hurt you and I don't think I could live with myself if he–" But I'm cut off as Willow leans forward and plants a soft kiss on my cheek.

I don't move as my body freezes up from contact, and her lips gently caress my cheek, running up and down. My face tingles as electricity shoots from her lips to my body.

Her lips stop applying pressure and just linger on my cheekbone, breathing me in.

It's not enough for me.

My hands move of their own accord to her face and cup her cheeks, bringing her face to mine, but halting as our noses touch.

She gives a breathless gasp at our proximity, but doesn't move.

I close my eyes and harshly breathe in and out, trying to compose myself.

After another moment, I pull away from her, staggering backwards as her scent and touch overpower my senses.

Wordlessly, I stalk back underneath the weeping willow and roll up our art piece, the watercolour already dry as I pack it carefully into my backpack.

I shove the art supplies and sketch pads in as well, zip up the bag and hoist it on to my shoulders.

Willow stands in front of me, appearing dazed.

I quickly walk over to her, say a farewell and hug her tightly, which she returns, before I practically sprint away from her.

I know that if I stop running, I'm going to go back and kiss her.

Properly.

And she would not be prepared for me kissing her properly.

Only when I exit the park do I feel better, although, guilt hangs around me like a cloud.

I had just left Willow alone.

I had ditched her, and now she was going to go home, alone.

To Jason.

I glare at the ground and walk to the bus stop, stalking to the very back when it arrives.

As soon as I sit down, I get out my phone and plug in my earphones.

I flick through my music absentmindedly, before selecting something that was going to block my thoughts.

Death metal.

As the screaming of the singer blares through my ears and the pounding of the drummer vibrates my body, I begin to feel slightly better.

When I arrive home, I run up to the front door and unlock it, carefully opening it wide enough so that my body can just slip through.

I softly close it behind me and turn around.

I cry out.

My father stands in front of me, holding Camilla and Caroline by the collars of their shirts, their faces battered and bleeding. Tears cutting tracks through the bloody mess.

I cover my mouth with my hand.

"I'm sorry, River. I tried." Milla whispers weakly.

My father shoves my sisters towards me and I rush forward, catching them before they hit the floor.

"Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Talk to me. Milla? Caro? Talk to me. Please." I plead pathetically, hearing their ragged breaths.

"Let this be a lesson to you, you piece of shit." My father's voice coldly addresses me.

I look up at him, tears blurring my vision.

"Why did you hurt them?!" I scream at him and he punches me across the face.

Blood sprays as my head whips with the impact, and my nose crunches.

Still, I clutch my sisters to me, not letting them fall.

They both let out gurgled screams as I yell at my nose breaking.

My father punches me again, this time slamming my cheek into the floor, my head rebounding off of the wooden boards.

I shove my sisters away from me as carefully as I can as my father beats me, punching me in the face and kicking me in the chest and stomach.

Distantly, Caro and Milla scream again.

I cough and blood spills from the corners of my mouth, dripping onto my chin.

As the hits become harder, I curl up in a ball and clutch at my knees, trying to block out the pain.

 _Don't hurt Caro and Milla, don't hurt Caro and Milla…_

When he gives me a final hard kick to the chest, he walks off, leaving me and my sisters in the hallway, bleeding and bruised.

He doesn't return.

My body shakes as I try to sit up, but I fall back down again as my arms give way.

I take a breath and get up again, trying to ignore the trembling in my body. I can only manage getting to my knees, so I crawl over to Camilla first, checking her pulse.

Alive.

I do the same to Caroline and collapse to the ground when I feel a steady _thump-thump_ under my fingertips.

They were both alive but unconscious.

I lay back onto the ground and close my eyes, trying to breathe in and out.

Every breath is agonizing; one of my ribs most likely broken.

 _So tired…_

No.

I try to get up again, my legs flailing, and I finally get to my knees again. This time, I attempt to stand up, planting my feet as firmly as I can on the ground.

I lean on to the wall for support, and eventually get my legs to stay straight.

A wave of dizziness overcomes me as I try to stay upright.

I walk over to Milla first, hooking my arms under hers and trying to drag her to the laundry, where I can wash the blood off of her.

I pant with exertion as I pull on her arms.

It feels as if she weighs a million tonnes, but I know I can pull her; I've done it before in a situation similar to this one.

Because I'm half-unconscious and have a beaten-up body, however, it makes it extremely difficult.

When I eventually drag her into the laundry, I sit her up against a wall and then stumble back out to get Caro.

Pulling Caro in is slightly easier now that I know what to expect.

When they are both in the laundry, I shut and lock the door, ensuring no one can come in.

I grab out a sponge, towel, bucket and a bottle of vodka from the hidden stash my father keeps under the laundry cupboard.

I fill the bucket with water then dip the sponge in.

Carefully, I wash and sponge all of the blood off of my sisters, paying no attention when I clean their chests and lower abdomens; I had done it so many times, I barely noticed.

Once all the blood is removed, even from their hair, I splash some vodka on to the towel and rub it gently over each open cut on their bodies.

Rummaging through the cupboard once more, I find the first-aid kit I bought and hid, taking out some bandages and some tape.

Using these, I wrap bandages and tape them off, tugging them tightly.

I chuck their dirty clothes into the bin and quickly sneak out of the laundry and up the stairs, not encountering my father at any time.

I almost collapse against the banister of the staircase, but force myself to trudge up the stairs, regardless of the nausea that floods me.

I grab them and myself a fresh change of clothes and race back down to the laundry, helping them dress.

Once I clean up myself, I change as well.

Sweat drips down my forehead once I finish.

I feel like I'm going to pass out, but I can't, no matter how sweet unconsciousness seems.

I shake my sisters for a while and when they eventually wake up, I help them up the stairs and to their room, attending Caro special care to get to the top bunk.

I tuck their sheets in and make sure they are comfortable, stacking up pillows behind their heads and backs.

Milla turns to me as I place a pillow behind her.

"River?"

I ignore her.

"River." She repeats.

I gulp and turn weakly towards her, feeling my eyelids droop.

She widens her eyes, wincing when her black eye kicks in.

"River, you need to see a doctor."

I shake my head.

"No. I'm fine. You need your rest. I'll get you guys some Advil–"

"No." Milla says, cutting me off. "You will get _your_ ass in bed and rest; you're hurt much more than we are." She continues, her voice rasping.

I sigh and instantly regret it; my chest sets on fire.

"I'm getting that Advil" Is all I say as I finish with her pillows.

I glance up at Caro and see her doing nothing but glaring at the ceiling, her arms folded across her stomach.

"You okay, Caro?" I whisper hoarsely to her.

She just nods.

I limp back down the stairs and clutch at the banister, almost crumpling when I reach the bottom floor.

I power on and yank on cupboard doors in the kitchen, shuffling my hand around inside.

I grab a packet and pull it out, seeing that it's Advil.

I consider taking only a couple of capsules up with me, then decide to bring the entire thing.

I hobble back up the stairs and into the bedroom, slamming the door shut and sliding two chairs under the knob for good measure.

I lock the windows and pull the curtains.

No one is fucking getting in.

Scavenging around, I find a water bottle and give Milla and Caro two capsules each, telling them to swallow with water.

I take two as well, and then slide myself into my bed, resting my head on the pillow.

Peace.

Everything on my body hurts, and I probably do need medical attention, but I don't do anything as the medicine kicks in and I pass out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7 – One Fight Too Many**

"Elbows up!" Mace yells to Milla, who hastily readjusts her arms and blocks a punch from him.

I lean against a wall, cradling my chest carefully to prevent hurting my ribs.

I watch on as Milla and Mace spar, taking and giving punches and kicks as they fight. Caroline is sitting down next to me, scribbling furiously in a notebook.

I glance down at her.

"What are ya drawing, Caro?" I ask her.

She swivels her head up suddenly, startled.

"Oh, I'm writing a poem."

I raise my eyebrows.

"Really? For school?" I question and she shakes her head.

"No. Just because I want to."

I frown.

"Can I read it?"

She opens her mouth to protest, but I stick my hand out in front of her face.

"Gimme."

She rolls her eyes and sighs, passing the book up to me. I smooth out the page of the poem and squint to read the cursive writing.

 _I get knocked over._

 _They do not care about me._

 _But now I fight back._

I raise my eyebrows at the 3 lines and flick my gaze back down to Caro, handing her back the notebook.

"Should I be concerned?" I say mock-earnestly and she slaps her book against my leg, scoffing. I hide my wince as I shove her shoulder gently and she giggles lightly.

Smiling, I look back over at the other two and see Mace deliver a hard punch to Milla's jaw, knocking her down.

My smile fades and I lean off of the wall, curling my fists. "Gentle." I bark at Mace.

He flicks me a glance.

"She's not going to learn if it's not similar to the real thing. If it isn't, she won't be prepared and the result will be worse." He contradicts and I glare at his pretty-boy face.

His brown eyes, red hair, thick brows and freckles give him a sharp and unique appearance, which also allowed him to get anything he wanted.

I should know, I was letting him beat up my sister.

Flinching, I lean tentatively back against the wall. When I put it that way, my perspective was seriously twisted and dark.

Mace was also older than us, about 19, and I wanted to knock him out real hard when he smirked at me, apparently coming to the realization that I knew he was correct in this situation.

Regardless of how pissed off he made me, he _was_ right in fighting properly.

I snarl.

"Fine."

Mace turns back towards Milla and extends a hand to help her back up. She takes it and gets hefted up, Mace drawing her slightly into the line of his body.

She gazes up at him, adoration in her eyes.

He even had the audacity to smile back down at her, the bastard.

"Get back to training!" I bark and I am ignored for another second as Mace runs a lingering finger down Milla's cheekbone, caressing.

He was also deliberately trying to work me up; he flicks me a side-long glance, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

I give an audible growl.

After that, he steps back and they resume sparring once again.

I slump down the wall next to Caro and snag her book off her again, her pencil dragging across her page.

"Hey!"

"Sorry." I mumble, snatching her pencil off of her and commencing a drawing.

She's about to protest again, but her voice falters as she begins to watch me sketch. She peers over my shoulder and observes my pictures as I draw lines in every direction.

I don't pay attention to what I'm sketching, just look at my hand flurry over the page.

When my hand eventually stops moving, I place down the pencil and take a proper look at the picture.

I've drawn a sea of faces.

Some I recognise; Aston, Willow, Milla and Caro. Others I don't.

My face takes centre stage in the middle, and it's so life-like that I'm stunned at myself. I hear Caro's intake of breath and know that she's probably thinking along similar lines.

Shaking my head after momentary shock, I rip out the drawing and pass the notebook back to her.

"Here. A picture to put up on your wall."

She smiles softly and takes the drawing, placing it carefully in the back of the book and sitting the other pages on the top.

A loud thud sounds from Milla and Mace, so I turn back to face them and see Mace on his back on the floor, Milla pressing her knee into his chest.

I grin.

"Go Milla." I shout from my side of the room.

She turns towards me and unleashes her teeth, smiling from ear to ear.

After extending a hand to help Mace up, she jogs over to me and gives me a hug.

"I did it!" She exclaims as she jumps up and down.

I jump up and down with her, laughing.

She turns to Caro.

"Caro, I did it!"

Caroline looks up and grins, tackling Milla to the floor while they both giggle madly. I smile fondly at the two before Caro suddenly jumps up, wild excitement in her eyes.

"You know what this calls for?" She whispers dramatically.

"What?" Milla calls breathlessly from the floor.

"Dance party!" Caroline squeals before racing over to the far side of the room and turning on the radio that rests in the corner.

Loud dance music spills from the speakers, and my sisters twirl and shake their hips madly as they sing along with the occasional voice that appears.

Mace watches them from the other side of the room and I walk over to him.

He flicks a glance in my direction and smiles slyly.

"River. Still think she can't handle it?" He mocks.

I smile, but it's only a sheer baring of my teeth.

"Oh, I know she can. But you? You're pathetic. Especially if you think having a crush on a fifteen-year old is alright."

He glares at me as he gets in my face.

"I'm teaching you how to fight, River. You should be thanking me, not chastising me. Besides, I would never think of Milla like that. Ever."

"Shut your mouth, Mace." I scoff and he snarls, but I continue anyway. He needs to understand the message nice and clear. "We both know that you're lying to yourself. So let me make this easy for you: if you lay one STD-covered finger on her, whether that be in the training room or not, you're dead. Got it?" I conclude softly, quite serial killer-esque if I do say so myself.

I spot a flash of something in his eyes as his tough-guy act fades, but he nods carefully after a moment of hesitation.

"Milla, Caro." I call out, still giving Mace the stink eye.

I hear them laugh once more before turning off the music and walking over to me.

"We're leaving." I say to them.

"Hey, there's no need for that now, River." Mace says, rather condescendingly.

He's got nerve, I'll give him that.

"Yes, there is." I spit at him. "We're going. Guys, go get your bags; we're heading home."

My sisters obey, clearly sensing that something was up.

I grab my bag as well and heft it over my shoulder, wincing as my ribs protest.

"Remember what I said Mace and don't forget it. You do, and I'll be that excited to remind you that you won't even get another chance to prove yourself a decent man." I say, glancing up at him. "Clear?"

"Crystal, River. Crystal." He replies, tone quiet.

I nod in satisfaction and wait by the door to the abandoned garage.

Milla and Caro run over to meet me, Milla stopping briefly to throw her arms around Mace. She hugs him tightly, girly thoughts apparently evident and Mace looks ready to hug her right back, before he spots my glare and resorts to a gentle pat on the shoulder instead.

She pulls back, a slight confusion in her eyes, before she runs over to Caro and me.

"See you, Mace." I call before we make our way down the street.

 ***Time Skip to Monday at School***

"Aston!" I yell to the blond, who was half-hunched inside his locker.

His head slams upwards in surprise and he groans as it collides with the top of the metal container.

"Shit, sorry." I say as I make my way over to him.

"No harm done." He replies, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. "So what's up?" He asks.

I shrug.

"I don't know." I begin, placing a finger on my chin as if contemplating. "Oh!" I state, my eyes widening in mock realization. "Maybe the fact that I heard the whole 'you moving school day' is being changed to this Wednesday!"

His own eyes widen.

"H-how did you find out?" He stutters.

I raise an eyebrow and stare at him all like 'did you seriously just ask me that?'

"Aston, we're at Alabama State – there's no word said here that goes unknown. Ever." I emphasise.

He sighs in resignation.

"Look, I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to be more upset. I know you want to focus on winning Willow over, so… yeah."

His shoulders hitch up and back down quickly in a shrug.

I almost punch him.

"Aston, friends always come first. What was I supposed to do? Wake up on Wednesday and every day after wondering where the hell you'd gone? No, you know I would have been worried sick. And thank the Lord that we have a freaking rumour-attractive school here or I swear…" I trail off, fuming.

He sighs again, this one almost sounding like it's weighing him down.

"Okay. Okay, I should have told you, I know. I'm sorry, alright?" He says, ploughing a hand through his hair and yanking at the strands.

"Just, these are your last couple of days, Aston. And I… I just want to make the most of them with you." I say, sadness in my tone.

"I know, I'm sorry." He repeats, and I can almost hear the thick thorns scraping against his throat, telling him to let the tears fall.

He gulps unsteadily.

The bell suddenly screams, and I jump. So does Aston.

"Look, I gotta get to class, but we'll talk later. Cool?" He says, and I nod.

He nods in return and turns back to his locker as I turn to mine.

Glancing to my left, I see Willow is not at her locker.

I frown.

 _Why isn't she here…_

But as if to contradict my thoughts, Willow suddenly rounds a corner and is making her way to her locker, her head down and her legs pumping as she sprints.

I smile.

She comes to a screeching halt at her locker, pants for breath and places a hand on the wall to steady herself.

Her hair hangs in front of her, and I reach forward to push it behind her ears, wanting to see her face. Touch her face.

She quickly draws back, slapping my hand away from her.

Hurt and concern floods me in a tidal wave.

"Willow." I say as she begins to open her locker.

She ignores me and yanks at her lock, but the metal resists. Growling, I tug at her lock and it snaps open, falling onto the floor.

"Willow, look at me." I say, firmer this time.

She sighs behind her hair and raises her head slightly, the glint from her green eyes barely shining through.

I glare at the strands and reach forward again, this time making contact with the silky softness.

I tuck her hair behind her left ear, and gasp as I see the side of her face.

Bruises in an array of black, blue and purple mar her left eye, cheek and jaw, her face swollen.

No.

No, no, no.

She said he wouldn't hurt her.

Godammit I knew he would.

"Willow…" I trail off with a simmering anger, but run a gentle finger down the side of her injured face. "You said he wouldn't hurt you. But he did, didn't he? Look at you! Argh!" I yell as I slam a fist into my locker door, hissing as my knuckles scream at me.

"River! Stop. Stop, it's okay. I'm okay." She assures, grabbing weakly at my arm, trying to get me to calm down.

I spin back to her, angry tears in my eyes.

"Godammit, Willow! I told you he would! I told you! And I can't stand seeing you like this, alright?! It actually _kills_ _me_ to see you like this, and knowing that _I_ was partly to blame for it because I. Let. You. Go. Home. To that monster!" I shout, bystanders giving me side-long glances as they trot along.

Whatever.

She sniffles softly.

"I'm sorry, River. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She stutters out, unnecessary amendments coming from her mouth.

"You don't need to apologize, Willow! I need to! So you know what? _I'm_ sorry. I'm sorry for letting you go home, knowing that you were going to get beaten anyway, regardless of what you said. I'm sorry, for not trying hard enough to stop you. I'm sorry, for not taking those hits for you. I'm. Sorry." I say, panting heavily to catch my breath.

She gazes up at me, betrayer tears falling down her cheeks.

I turn away from her, emotions running too high to stare at her crying and bruised face. My conscious is yelling at me to turn around and just hug her, letting her cry on _my_ shoulder and not her own.

I take a shaky breath and wordlessly, open my dinted locker and grab out some books, not paying attention to which ones I take.

"R-River…" She hiccups, and I flinch internally at the pure desperation and sadness in her tone, but I don't let anything show on my own face, because I know that if I do, I'm gone.

 _Turn to her and comfort her, you idiot!_ Is what my head is practically pleading me to do, but I don't.

And neither Willow nor my head try to stop me as I slam my locker closed and stalk off in the other direction to class.

Away from her and away from my pain, regardless of the droplets of water that fall to the floor in front of me.

 **Author's Note: I know, I'm a horrible person. That's all I'm gonna say.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8 – Healing Wounds**

I walk back into the hellhole – also known as school – and shuffle aimlessly through the corridors, people seeming to float around me as they walk by, all of us like zombies apparently.

Ah, I hate Tuesdays.

As if to make my day worse, a certain zombie slouching by – who happens to have perfect black hair and blue eyes – grabs the collar of my shirt and drags me to the nearest row of lockers, slamming my back into the metal.

Ugh.

"What do you want this time?" I spit at Dick, whose piercing eyes pin me in place. "You going to hit me? Shove my shoulder? Lecture me about why I shouldn't be in this world and that Hell is saving me a special spot in its VIP?" I question, widening my eyes mockingly at him.

He glares.

"Look, I'm not dragging you over here to endure this crap from you. I'd prefer not to get filth on my hands, thank you very much. No, – as much as it pains me – I'm here just to talk." His face curls in distaste, as if the prospect of just talking to me was horrendous. "Although," he continues, "I do believe that your face could be fixed up with another nice black eye. A lovely look on you really." He antagonizes, pointing to the fading bruise on my eyebrow.

Bastard.

I roll my eyes and grip his wrist, shoving him backwards. Then I dust imaginary dirt off of my collar; where he had grabbed me.

"What do you want, Grayson?" I sigh, already dreading the conversation.

He begins to shuffle his feet nervously, hands behind his back, and I raise my eyebrows.

Dick Grayson? Nervous?

Well I'll be.

He pauses.

"I saw Willow" Is all he says – and that's all I need to hear – before I begin to speed-walk away.

"Wait." He says as he pinches the back of my shirt, and I cough as my collar strains against my neck. Batting at Dick's hand behind me, he eventually releases me and I throw daggers at his face as I turn around.

"So?" I say, crossing my arms as if I haven't a care.

Little did he know, I was one more snowflake away from a full-scale avalanche. And – as much as I loathe Dick – I didn't want him to be subjected to my rage. Or anyone for that matter. Ever.

"I saw – I saw the bruises on her face, River." He pauses, flicking his gaze up to me.

Then he glares and points a finger at my face.

"If you did anything to her–"

I cut him off.

"I would _never_ do something like that to her!" I roar and I know my emotional control is hanging by a thread.

He does too.

"Then who did?" He asks.

"Her weak excuse for a step-father is who." I growl.

Dick frowns, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

Now _I_ frown.

"What?" I inquire.

"Does his name happen to be Jason?" He says, softly however, as if he didn't expect it to be true.

I gape.

"Y-yes. How the hell did you know that?"

Now Dick gapes, clearly unbelieving that his theory was right.

"I-I know him. That's all." He manages to fumble out after a moment of surprise.

I take a stride forward and fist Dick's shirt, gripping it and whipping _him_ around against the locker. His head slams hard against the metal, and the entire row rattles.

"How do you know him?" I snarl, getting in his face.

He gulps.

"I-I..."

" _How do you know him?!_ " I shout, spit landing on Dick's cheek.

"My mom. She… she went out with him once." He stutters, and I relax my grip on his shirt, but still hold onto it.

Dick gulps again.

"What happened to Willow? It happened to me too. All the time. He has a pattern. Date 'em, beat 'em and their kids, and then leave 'em."

His eyelashes fuse together tightly, as if trying to block out a bad image, and he shakes his head furiously.

 _Shit._ Is all I think as I let go of Dick. He'd been through more than I thought he had.

Then again, most of us here had too.

"I'm sorry." I say, stepping back.

He straightens and flattens his shirt back out again.

"No harm done. It's a bad shirt" Is what Dick says, obviously mistaking the reason behind my apology.

I shake my head.

"No," I say and place a hand on his shoulder. " _I'm sorry_."

He shoots me a glare and works his way out of my grip; all I can envision is Dick being beaten, and it's a horrible picture to watch.

No one deserves that.

"I'm fine. It's done and gone and I've dealt with worse. I mean, I met you didn't I?" He says and with that he stalks away, appearing only mildly shocked and sad.

I shake my head again and place a hand to my forehead.

Shit.

All this and it's barely eight in the morning.

"River!" Someone shouts across the hall, and I spot Aston practically bounding towards me, a big grin on his face, pure happiness radiating from him.

I feel a smile tugging up the corners of my mouth, and my face aches from not having stretched my lips.

Finally.

I'm smiling, he's happy for once and he got here early. No wonder he wasn't on the bus this morning.

"Hey, man." I say as he skids to a stop mere centimetres away from me. We bump knuckles.

His eyes are wild with excitement.

"What?" I chuckle as we begin walk to the lockers.

"You are not going to believe what has happened." He says, leaving me in suspense and unable to prevent myself from asking the inevitable question:

"What happened?"

He bounces up and down next to me like a big, happy beach ball.

"Well, I went to my new school's orientation day yesterday, and well, I think I'm in love." He grins, flicking his gaze to me.

"With the new school?" I question.

He shakes his head.

" _No._ I think I'm legitimately in love. With a girl." He says, breathless.

I raise my brows at him and have to bite back another chuckle.

15 and in love. If only.

I don't want to destroy his happiness by saying that it'll probably never work, so I play along.

"What's her name?" I ask, smiling again as dreaminess fills his eyes.

"Her name's Kat. Kat Parker."

Simple and pretty.

"What's she look like?"

He actually grasps his hands to his chest, as if thinking about her appearance was making his heart spill over-the-brim with love.

"Beautiful dark hair. It's so perfectly long. And she has these hazel eyes that are the most perfect combination of green and brown I have ever seen. And have you ever encountered perfect curves before? Well, she has 'em, and she's just the right height so that her head would fit right here–" He gestures to the groove in his shoulder and sighs.

I question whether he thinks she's perfect or not.

Okay, I can't help it, I chuckle.

He glares.

"What?"

Looks like the roles are now reversed.

"Nothing. I think it's cute." I say, covering my mouth with my hand.

He shoves my shoulder roughly and I laugh outright, enjoying and savouring this moment.

It was almost…

Normal.

Before all of this Dick Grayson and Willow Ashford and Aston moving schools business.

I was going to miss it.

I turn my head back forward, lingering laughter hanging on my face as I flick my gaze to the lockers. All remnants of amusement disappear as I spot Willow's face, who is staring at me already.

A deep and utter guilt takes place inside me, as well as a small sprig of joy at seeing her face not as bruised as it was yesterday.

Her green eyes pierce my own golden ones, so many emotions radiating from them.

Happiness, torment, sadness, longing.

The last one throws me because I long for her too. But I lower my gaze besides, unsure of what to think.

I make my way to my locker, trying to ignore her looking at me as I open up the lock. Aston pops his next to me, and I know he can sense the unease and nervousness between Willow and I.

I hear her soft gulp.

"River?" She asks quietly, and I contemplate on whether or not I should answer her.

I spot Aston trying to gain my attention which a small flick of his wrist.

I briefly glance at him and see him looking at Willow then back to me, miming a talking gesture with his hands.

Sighing, I turn slowly towards Willow, keeping my eyes on the floor.

"Yes?" I answer quietly in return.

Aston gives me a small pat on the back before I hear him walk off.

"Can we talk?" Willow asks me, sounding apprehensive.

I stare at her hands, which are wringed together in worry. I don't want her to be worried.

Silently, I nod and she hesitantly grabs one of my hands, beginning to pull me away from the lockers. I feel something cold pressed against my palm and spot that she's wearing rings on her fingers. Peeking up at her, I see her weaving her way through the rush of people, heading towards a janitor's closet.

She opens it up – surprisingly it's not locked – and hauls us both inside, flicking on the light while shutting and locking the door.

She's wearing a long-sleeve teal-coloured top, a tight tan leather jacket, black biker jeans and the same grey ankle boots from Saturday. An all-American scarf adorns her neck as well, regardless of the heat.

Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, but her curls still travel down her back and her bruises are still visible.

She was so frightened yesterday to show me the marks, so why is she now… ah, she's covered some of them with make-up. And yet, she still looks beautiful. Hell, she could have worn a garbage bag and made it look good.

Why am I nervous all of a sudden?

She starts.

"Look, River, I know you hate me right now and that's completely understandable, but I just want to say I'm sorry for doing this to you and I should have listened to you. And, I just don't want us to ignore each other like this." She says, glancing up at me nervously.

I stare at her in disbelief.

"You think that I hate you?" I ask, my voice breaking pathetically at the end.

She's about to say something, but pauses as she contemplates.

"Well, I _thought_ you did." She says, scratching behind her head. "Do you?"

I give a humourless laugh of incredulity and poke my tongue into my cheek, shaking my head.

"Of course I don't." I say to her. "I… I'm just worried about you, that's all. I don't want you to get hurt, Willow."

She smiles.

"I'm fine. Really, River. I'm not just saying that like every other girl, I actually am okay." She chuckles slightly, placing a hand on my shoulder and patting it.

I cover her hand with mine and give a small squeeze.

I see the relief in her eyes and am shocked at how much there is. I didn't realise she was so worried about this.

"So, does this mean we're okay now?" She asks hesitantly, staring up at me through her thick, black lashes and biting her cherry-glossed lips.

I clear my head of inappropriate thoughts and nod my head.

"We always were." I say to her and she grins, sighing.

"Okay. Okay, then." She says and I feel like she wants to say more, but she doesn't.

"We should probably head out now. People are going to think we're hooking up in here." I say snickering, a weight I hadn't known was on my shoulders being lifted.

A flash of something in Willow's eyes before she giggles and unlocks the door, sticking her head out to make sure the coast is clear.

"Okay, all good." She whispers and we both slide out, merging in with the flow of teenage traffic.

The bell rings right on time as we reach the lockers once again and Aston has returned, leaning against his locker.

He glances at us as we walk to him.

"Finally sorted?" He questions and we both nod. He grins. "Good, because I'm throwing a farewell party tomorrow. For myself. And, you two are invited. As well as majority of my year plus a couple from yours."

He crosses his arms against his muscled chest.

"So, you think y'all can go?" He asks and Willow and I share a look of confirmation.

"Yeah, I think I can go." Willow says, turning to back Aston.

Aston turns to me hopefully.

"I'll do my best to make an appearance." I say jokingly and he socks me in the stomach.

I try to mask the pain it causes me, my ribs still healing. I grin as best I can through the sharp ache, but it probably looks like I'm constipated.

I wheeze and he gives me a weird look.

Yup, definitely constipated.

"Okay." He says with another smile before grabbing the books from the top of his locker and waving to us over his shoulder.

Willow and I wave in synchronisation before gazing at each other sheepishly, and Aston rolls his eyes.

Once he disappears, I grab out my Electronics textbook and workbook, placing my pencil case on the top of the pile.

"Alright, so I'll see you at lunch?" She asks and I nod, smiling at her.

"Yeah, at lunch."

She grins at me as I walk off.

 **Willow's POV:**

As River walks off, I can't help but stare at his back delightfully. His muscles ripple wonderfully through his tight black shirt as he strides.

I smile to myself as I get my books out of my own locker. My face only protests slightly.

The bruises have almost faded and it barely aches anymore.

Hopefully it'll all be gone by tomorrow; I had broken nothing and healed fairly quickly. Apparently River did too; he had only winced when Aston had punched him, but Camilla had told me that just on Saturday night had he broken a rib or two.

He had taken a beating because he had gone out to meet me without telling his father.

I only knew this because I'd found Camilla crying in the girl's bathroom on Monday at lunch. She'd walked out of a stall when I'd been washing my hands, and she'd hastily wiped her eyes to clear away her tears.

I'd asked her if she was okay and she had nodded. I introduced myself to her and she had appeared shocked when I told her, saying: "You're Willow?"

Wondering why, I'd talked to her and discovered River had told her about me, which had made me smile. She said that she was trying to keep his cover on Saturday so that their dad wouldn't find out he'd snuck out to meet me, but he did and had beaten Camilla and her sister Caroline for it.

Then, River got beaten up once he got home.

I'd been horrified at what I'd heard and had hugged her, telling her how sorry I was for doing this to them.

She had just shook her head and smiled at me.

I was so relieved when I had seen River on Monday without too much damage. Then again, most of the injuries were probably hidden under all of those winter-wear clothes.

But if there is one thing I knew, it was that a broken bone took longer than a couple of days to heal.

 **Author's Note: Watttuuppp. So, River and Willow are all goods, Aston has met Kat, he's finally happy. EVERYTHING'S GOOD. But, we all know it won't last. Sorry! So this whole broken bone business is a clue to the whole story and all will be revealed in the next chapter. Bwahahaha I love being evil sometimes :D Lastly, I'd just like to thank everyone for voting and reading TFO, it means a lot and the more you vote, the more chapters you get! I know, BRIBERY AND/OR BLACKMAIL. But, you all still participate…**

 **Love you all!**

 **GladerGirl621 xx**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9 – Party Panic**

The loud, thudding music from Aston's house assails my ears as I walk up the front porch. Sighing, I straighten out my leather jacket and grey button-up, halting outside the door. Should I knock? I contemplate the action before inviting myself in, only after a swarm of kids from my year stampede past me without an invitation.

The beat of the song becomes significantly stronger as I step inside, and my stomach vibrates with each hit of dance. Couples are squashed against the hallway walls, making out as if their lives depend on it and I inch past all of them, trying to avoid their gyrating bodies.

One pair stumbles backwards and knocks into me, sending me ricocheting into someone else who spills a cup of something alcoholic, which I barely avoid in time.

Ugh.

I weave in and out of the hallway, trying to ignore the wave of claustrophobia as the people squish even closer together. When I can finally breathe, I discover that I have fumbled into the living room, where there aren't as many couples and people aren't _too_ wasted.

Key word: too.

A group of people stand in a corner, passing each other tiny bags of white powder as their gazes dart around everywhere at once. Totally not shifty at all. Another cluster of kids are standing around two people, once of them taking body shots off the other as the others clap and roar.

I stand there awkwardly as I try to think of what I should do. Observing other people, I see nearly everybody has a red plastic cup stationed in their hands, so I turn to the closest person next to me.

"Hey, where do I get a drink?"

The guy spins around to face me, almost tripping over and losing his balance. He lets out a thundering laugh for seemingly no particular reason. Wow, as if I needed any more of a migraine. Thanks buddy.

"Just follow! The trail! _Of cups!_ " He yells in different intervals, screaming the last part as his eyes dart around wildly.

I stare at him blandly, blinking rapidly in annoyance.

"Thanks." I say as I shove past him, the cup falling out of his hand as I do. He stares at his empty hand for a second, before he throws his arms up in the air with some form of victory as he shouts out a battle cry. All of the others around him cheer and repeat the action.

Following the trail of cups I try to find the kitchen, which I eventually do after squeezing through a wall of drunk 15 year olds. I shake my head sadly at them as I walk past. What are they doing with their lives? Eventually I turn my gaze away from them, focusing on the table in front of me. I see a group of people around my age selecting various types of vodka and beer to pour into cups.

I grab a cup of my own from the table and sniff around the variety of drinks available. I know. How sad is that? I'm at a party with drunk people and I'm getting picky about the type of alcoholic beverage I'm going to consume.

A guy waiting behind me stares as if I'm trying to sniff drugs or something, shooting a 'what the hell is up with this guy' look to one of his friends, as well as glaring at me for not choosing a drink.

Whatever.

Not wanting to hold up the impatient tosser, I tip in a small amount of a green liquid and wonder what it tastes like. Only because it was the nicest smelling thing out of all the others. Taking a tentative sip, I realize – surprise, surprise– that the drink is lime-flavoured and burns going down my throat.

Yup, strong alcohol with a nice taste. Probably not the best idea, but, I don't really care at the moment. Satisfied with what I have, I lean against a bench and take small sips from my cup, now unsure of what to do next.

Where the hell is Aston?

I'm at _his_ party – my best friend's going away party – and I can't even find the main star of the show. Wonderful. And, I haven't seen Willow either.

 _Shame._ Lovey-Dovey River sighs deeply within my head as I stare wistfully at my drink, swirling it around sadly.

Internally, I roll my eyes at him and drain the rest of my cup's contents, contemplating whether I should get another drink or attempt to find either Willow or Aston.

I decide on the second option and straighten from my slouch, dumping my empty cup in the bin as I prepare to battle the flood of sexed-up and boozed-up teenagers blocking the exit to the kitchen.

But before I can move I hear a light, feminine laugh and my head shoots upwards.

Willow.

She walks into the kitchen effortlessly, the whole crowd of kids at the entrance basically parting for her as she glides in. I don't question why, because I'm staring at her too – jaw dropping – just like the rest of the dumb-struck kids.

She looks…

Like an angel.

Her long black hair has been curled and styled to perfection, the waves floating silkily down her back. The bright I'm-prepared-to-sin-tonight red dress hugs her curves, with the skirt flaring out at the waist to fall gently at her thighs. Spiky metallic heels adorn her feet to match her glittery eyeshadow and long lashes, which make her green eyes pop.

My gaze roams up and down, and I try to stop myself – I really do – but I can't. My eyes halt on her lips. They're stained a vibrant, cherry red.

Aston is walking next to her, a cup in his hand while he tries to keep up with her. At least the reason behind her giggling is now obvious. She spots me, blissfully unaware of the awe in the crowd.

"River!" She shouts over the music. I smile meekly at her and wave shyly. Everyone suddenly turns in my direction, clearly wondering who Willow would waste her time with. I think everybody is shocked when they realise she is actually making communication with the low-life who was sniffing the drinks.

Willow walks over to me with Aston in tow. Her eyes are bright with carefree and excitement as she grins at me.

"Hey." I say with a burst of pride.

 _That's right._ I think. _She's talking to me, not some other guy._

"Hey!" She replies, hauling Aston in front of me, who was dawdling behind as he checked-out a brunette expectantly.

"Aye!" Aston shouts as he almost trips over.

I grin at him.

"Who you looking for Aston?" I ask, feigning curiosity.

He rolls his eyes.

"Funny funny ha ha."

I laugh in response and glance up, my gaze instantly drawn to a dark-haired girl standing by herself. She leaned awkwardly against a couch, holding a cup that she wasn't drinking from. She wore a black leather mini-skirt with a matching black lace t-shirt tucked into it, as well as black motorcycle boots and an artfully styled messy bun.

She definitely fit the description of Aston's mystery Kat Parker.

"Hey Aston, is that her?" I ask, pointing discretely to the girl.

He whips his head around immediately and scans the crowd, trying to find the person I was referring to. I know I'm right when his gaze halts on the girl, his eyes widening and his smile broadening.

"Here, hold this!" He shouts hurriedly to me, thrusting his half-full cup into my hands as he straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. Taking a breath, he walks confidently over to Kat, who does a double-take when she spots him, relief evident in her hazel eyes as she recognises someone she knows.

He begins to talk to her and she glances down shyly, a small smile on her face. After a moment, another girl walks up behind Kat and gives her a quick hug, startling Aston as well as Kat. She turns around, her eyes widening as she grins, shouting out a name that sounded vaguely like 'Reeve'.

I watch Aston observe the two, disappointment evident before he shakes it off and smiles welcomingly at the newcomer, giving her a friendly hug.

She smiles in return and begins to talk to Kat and Aston, Kat appearing much more relaxed and Aston appearing much more annoyed. This girl was beautiful too, with long brown waves and large dark doe-eyes. She wore all white.

I try not to laugh at Aston's dismay and turn back to Willow who is watching me, amused.

"Having fun?" She asks, but I sense she already knows the answer.

"Are you kidding me? I've never been so confused or bored in my life." I respond, chuckling. She covers her mouth with her hand and shakes her head, laughing along with me.

"Have you had a drink yet?" She questions and I nod, gesturing to the green drink on the table that I had. She nods wisely, turning back to me.

"Excellent choice. Is it kicking in?" She giggles and I roll my eyes.

"I only had a little bit. I honestly don't feel like getting drunk."

"Oh, you probably will. That little amount you had? Yeah, that could probably knock out _anyone_. Or quite possibly a tank." She emphasizes, rolling her eyes dramatically as she continues to snicker.

"Oh, great." I sigh, shaking my head as I fear the moment I feel even the slightest bit dizzy.

She stops laughing however her smile still lingering, and hitches her thumb back in the direction of the dance floor.

"You wanna dance?" She asks and I stare at her in mild surprise.

Dance?

I don't think I'd ever danced at a party before. Or with a girl for that matter. Ever.

A sudden wave of nervousness and vulnerability washes over me. What if I'm bad at it? What if I accidently step on her foot? What if I fall over?

Willow studies me, apparently coming to the conclusions in my head.

"River, have you ever danced before?"

I open my mouth, then close it again quickly, not really wanting to say anything.

Her eyes widen before she grabs my hand, pulling me away from the kitchen. Once again, the crowd parts for her as if she's Moses in the Red Sea.

I walk quickly to catch up to her, feeling embarrassed and extremely apprehensive as I break out in a small sweat.

Oh Lord.

She tugs me into the midst of writhing bodies and body odour, eventually finding a small space. She turns around to face me and grins.

"Come on!" She shouts over the throbbing club music, beginning to sway her hips and lock her knees.

What do I do?

I try to observe others, but let's just say they don't appear to be very good guidance as they jump up and down and scream at the top of their lungs.

I mean, I didn't want to look crazy.

I turn to Willow, almost in a plea.

I don't know what to do…

Willow stops dancing for a moment, grabbing my hands and placing them on her waist, before sliding her hands up my shoulders and around my neck.

She moves her hips slowly, drawing me closer to her as we sway.

I watch her movements carefully before hesitantly wrapping my arms tighter around her, moving my body from side to side.

Willow glances up at me, smiling in encouragement as I dance.

I'm dancing. I'm actually dancing. With someone.

I grin down at Willow and her own smile widens as she giggles again.

As the music picks up and we steadily become more confident – probably due to the alcohol – our swaying soon morphs into gyrating, until we're practically grinding on one another. Our bodies are pressed so close, I can feel her sweet, warm breath fanning over my face.

I gaze down at her and she gazes up at me, her hazy eyes flicking tentatively to my mouth and then back up again.

I drop my gaze to _her_ lips, my eyelids lowering to half-mast as I feel a pleasant buzz run through me. We subconsciously edge closer and closer to one another, until our lips are only millimetres away from each other.

Am I going to ruin everything if I kiss her?

I hope not, because my body is telling me to close the gap between our mouths.

So I do.

I press my lips gently against hers, long-suppressed sparks of desire running through me as Willow tightens her grip around my neck, tugging at the strands of hair at my nape.

I groan softly into her mouth and she tentatively moves her lips against mine, kissing me back. I'm kissing Willow. I'm kissing Willow. I'm kissing Willow.

She gently pulls away, catching her breath as she stares at me, wonder in her eyes.

"Is this okay?" I rasp and she nods her head weakly, her lips quickly finding mine again.

Now that we know what to expect, our kisses become stronger, harder. My hands run up and down her sides frantically, kissing her as if my life depends on it. Now I understand what the hallway couples are feeling. I can't get enough of her.

She clutches at me the entire time, never once breaking her hold on my body. Fire shoots up my veins as she grips my shoulders, and I instinctively bite down on her lower lip, absent-minded. She gasps as I tug on her lip, pulling it towards me. I run my tongue gently along the marks left behind, asking for entrance. She moans in response and opens her mouth, my tongue instantly slipping inside to taste her.

The taste of strawberries and caramel floods my senses as Willow's tongue duels with my own. Her sweet scent is all I can smell, the fireworks in my stomach all I can feel as my body lights up from her touch, her hands and lips searing my skin.

It isn't long before I'm travelling hungrily down her neck, wanting to kiss every inch of her beautiful body as she claws at my back. She tips her head to gain me better access, slowly rocking her hips against mine. I kiss back up to her lips and she nips at my mouth, purring.

There wasn't any other way to describe it; she was actually purring with pleasure. I wasn't any better, I was groaning so loudly I'm surprised someone hasn't interrupted us to ask if I was okay.

I tug at the hem of Willow's dress with one hand as the other cups and caresses her cheek. And suddenly, – I don't know how it happened – one minute I'm kissing Willow, and the next she is frozen beneath me, her lips not on mine anymore.

I gasp deeply as I try to catch my breath, my vision blurry and my body shaking from sensory overload.

When I regain my composure I look down at Willow, confused. Why did she pull away? She's standing in front of me, her breathing elevated and her eyes cast downwards. It's because I pulled at her dress isn't it? Shit.

I run a hand through my hair, ashamed at myself. The fire heat inside me dies.

I shouldn't have done it. I knew it.

"Willow, I'm-I'm so sorry. Crap, I've ruined everything haven't I? I just got caught up – I didn't mean to pull at your dress like that – I just… oh Lord I'm sorry."

She holds a finger up shakily and I stop rambling.

"I just… I need some air." She says and turns around to walk away.

Oh no, she's leaving. Oh shit what have I done?

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Willow wait!" I yell as she manoeuvres her way out of the crowd, leaving me alone in the middle of the dance floor.

My shoulders slump.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

I've lost her.

 _Godammit I knew I shouldn't have!_ I think as I storm out of the dance floor, shoving aside drunk kids who get in my way. Tears blur my vision and it suddenly feels way too crowded in this room.

How could I have been so stupid?

Now she probably thinks I was only using her for sex or something ridiculous like that. But she seemed so into kissing me! Why would she walk away?

Argh!

I finally make it out of the living room and then the hallway, yanking open the front door as I stumble outside. Geez, my head hurts.

I raise a hand to my forehead, rubbing my aching brain as I sit on the front step, a few tears escaping my eyes as I see people talking and laughing on some couches that are outside.

Things Willow and I aren't doing.

I'd just fixed everything with her and now I've screwed it all up. Again. I'm absolutely hopeless at this. A deep, heart-wrenching pain sets inside of me and I breathe deeply, staring at the park opposite Aston's house mournfully.

The park was abandoned and dark, the trees casting long, weeping shadows along the grass. No one appeared to be there. I'm about to go back to staring at my feet once more, before a figure that darts across my vision makes me start.

What the–?

The shadow that had raced across the field behind the park had been bright red. The only reason I had noticed.

Willow?

She had worn a red dress.

It's her.

I get up off of my lonely seat and stride over to the road, crossing to the other side. I'm going to make things right. I am not losing her.

Not again.

I weave my way through the playground, ducking under equipment as I reach the clearing between the park and the field. I scan the empty oval, determined to find Willow. Movement to my left catches my eye, and I spot another flash of red.

Marching over to the forest entrance, I pause at the lining of trees. Thick, scraggly branches are scattered within the depths of the foliage, making it appear like a scene straight from a horror movie.

I glare at the darkness before stomping inside, calling out.

"Willow?!" I yell, lightly jogging through the trees, ducking under small branches. I hear a twig snap on my right, so I stop moving and edge towards it, carefully.

"Willow?" I whisper this time, halting as I hear another snap from behind me. I spin around and see nothing but fog and blackness.

I hear another sound from behind me again, this time a soft whimper, with barely detectable words seeping out.

"R-River? Is t-that you?"

I turn around instantly at the familiar voice and see Willow lying on the dirt, blood and scratches marring her arms and legs. A black gooey-looking substance oozed from cuts she had, and her entire body shook as she convulsed, spewing out more of the black sludge that covered her chin.

"Willow!" I scream, racing to her side and placing her head in my lap, cradling it softly as I brush a hand over her cheek, flinching as she winces.

"What the hell happened? Did someone do this to you? Tell me who did this to you!" I demand desperately, scanning her body for any major wounds. I sigh with relief when I see nothing is bleeding profusely. But that still doesn't explain the black stuff.

She sputters and coughs, black-as-night spit flying from her mouth.

"These t-things. T-they at-tacked me." She stutters, her voice garbling.

My brow furrows as I pant heavily, still in shock.

"What things? What did they look like? Animals or something?"

She shakes her head weakly.

"N-no. T-they were–" She cuts herself off, coughing again, and I try to ignore how much pain she appears to be in.

"Were?" I prompt frantically, leaning closer so she didn't have to strain her voice.

She swallows thickly, raising her lips up to my ear.

"Zombies."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 10 – It's Over

"Zombies." I say carefully to Aston on the phone.

A bone-chilling silence greets me as the line on the other end crackles.

"Zombies." Aston repeats after a moment, more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah…" I trail off, sitting up on my bed. I swing my legs over the side, placing my arms on my knees and resting my chin in one of my hands.

Aston coughs uncomfortably. Like, extremely uncomfortably.

"You mean like the things I see?" He whispers, as if someone else might hear.

I release a breath shakily.

"I honestly don't know Aston. I just don't know." I reply, running a hand through my hair nervously as I breathe in and out deeply. "She just said zombies and–and I don't know what to do. W-what I should do for her." I stutter out as my voice rises with each word, emotions running a bit wild.

I hear Aston gulp unsteadily before continuing.

"Look. I think you should talk to her. Her saying 'zombies' and then you not saying anything is probably not the best way to leave it. If you want, I can talk to her for you if you don't want to?"

I shake my head even though he can't see it.

"No, I'll do it." I sigh and we sit in another awkward silence. "I saw them, you know." I mumble after a while.

"What?" He asks.

"I-I saw them. When I was carrying Willow back out of the forest. I saw the… the zombies. They were just waiting there. On the sidelines. Like… like they were just looking for an opportunity to attack or something. Shit, man. I fucking saw them."

He sighs heavily through the phone.

"It's okay. Everything will be okay. I've-I've met this guy at my new school. His name's Cole. He… he can see them too. And so can his friends. I'm not alone. And… and if you can see them too River, then it's okay. You're not alone either. It's a gift..." He trails off, frustrated, as he tries to explain.

I'm glad he has found closure; I really am, but all this? Zombies? It's too ridiculous, unreal. What if this Cole guy is just playing him? What if his friends hurt Aston? Use him? Why is Cole saying this stuff to him anyway?

I feel a pang of jealousy over the fact that Aston may have found a new friend already.

He continues.

"They told me that some people don't see them until something traumatic happens to them, or when the emotion they feel at one point is too overwhelming. I saw them after my parents died, I don't know when you saw them, but it must have been bad."

"It was after she left me. We kissed and–"

I hear Aston gasp loudly.

"You guys kissed?!" He exclaims loudly, and even as I draw my ear away from the receiver in a flinch, I can still hear the even louder 'shh' that greets Aston from his house.

He mutters an apology and I tentatively put my ear back.

"Yes, we kissed. But then… she just stopped. And left me there. I sat on the porch and then I thought I saw her. And well, one thing led to another." I explain as I flop back down on my bed.

"Shit. Well, that kinda of shows why you saw them, I guess. Rejection." He states blandly and I wince in hurt.

"So why is this Cole guy telling you all this anyway?" I snipe, trying to keep the whininess out of my voice.

"He can see them too. And he's really helping me through this. He's been so supportive and so have his friends. I've never felt so secure about this before." He says breathlessly and I frown.

"I never made you feel secure about those things? Like you could talk to me about them?" I say quietly, feeling rejected all over again.

"Well… you were never able to see them before, River. You never really did understand." He says, and it's like a huge slap to my face.

I didn't understand him?

Maybe so, but the way he was saying this was almost like I had never tried to understand.

Of course I had.

I was the one he turned to when it had started happening during the day time, and I had helped him through it. At least I thought I had.

Perhaps it wasn't enough.

I don't answer Aston.

Maybe it was just me being jealous, or maybe it was me being angry, but I felt hurt. Betrayed.

"Besides," Aston continues, "Cole is there for me now, so you don't have to worry anymore."

Is he even aware of what he's saying?

I was happy to help him; he put it so bitterly however, that I don't think he knew that. And what does he mean I don't have to worry about it anymore? I can fucking see them now.

"Are you even aware of what you're saying?" I say incredulously out loud, not believing my ears.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He snaps and I laugh without humour.

"Are you kidding me? I may not have understood you, Aston, but that doesn't mean I haven't tried. And you think I don't have to worry? I was always happy to help you but don't you dare say I don't have to worry anymore. Because now I can see them, Aston. Remember that? This entire conversation you're acting like you don't even care, or that I've done fuck all to help you. And you know what? That's not only the biggest slap in the face, but it's just plain, fucking insulting!" I shout, and he doesn't say anything.

"Wow." He says after a moment. "I hope you're fucking happy with yourself, River." He ends, scathingly, as if I'm the one in the wrong.

I snort.

"Right. Typical. I wouldn't expect you to understand anyway because you're so fucking immature."

"I knew you always hated me." He mutters sadly and I halt at the comment.

What?

"I don't hate you, Aston. I'm pissed off because you're acting like I've never cared for you."

"Where is she now?" He asks quietly, not responding to my accusation.

Whatever. I can play along too.

"At the hospital. I hijacked a car and drove her to the nearest one."

"Well, that's good at least."

"Yeah."

Another one of those silences, and yet so many words were flowing through.

"River?"

"Yes?"

"I hope Willow dies in her fucking sleep."

And with that comment, I knew instantly that our friendship was over. Our long-lasting, happy yet traumatic friendship was over. I never knew Aston was capable of bringing such pain to someone, especially me. What have these people and these-these _things_ done to him?

I don't say anything but I can feel the rage bubbling inside my chest, my jaw clenching, and I hear my phone crack in my hands.

"You don't mean that." I say passively, mainly trying to convince myself more than him, even as the realization and ache in my chest take over.

"Yeah, I do. Ever since she came along, it's always been about her. And now, I'm gone anyway." He says and I wonder at where all this is has suddenly coming from.

"Aston, don't be like this. Just listen–"

"No, you listen!" He snarls unexpectedly and I flinch, jumping in place.

"Don't ever call me again. Don't ever speak to me again. Don't ever ask for my help again. You hear me?!" He demands, his voice rising with each word.

I feel the hurt and anger pooling in my eyes as I shakily nod my head.

"Yeah. I hear you, Aston."

"Good." He says, and I can almost envision him nodding satisfactorily.

"Oh, and River?"

"Yes?"

"It's Frosty, not Aston."

And with that last, dramatic comment, he hangs up the phone, leaving me to drown.

 **Author's Note: Yeah, I know. Another crappy, rushed chapter. But shiet JUST WENT DOWN. I just felt like I needed to update so I hope this is enough for now. Another note: I've got my exams coming up in about a week, so I'm probs gonna be going on a bit of a hiatus for a bit. But DON'T WORRY I WILL BE BACK. I am in the midst of writing the next chapter for Sable The Glader Girl too, so I hope I can update both stories again in another week or two. Once again, sorry for the awful chapter, but I hope his picture of Nightwing makes up for it.**

 **Love you all!**

 **~ GladerGirl621 xx 3**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 11 – Expected Recovery For Some, Total Relief For Others**

I stare down at her prone form, holding her hand gently as she slowly breathes in and out. The heart monitor beeps steadily with each inhalation she takes, my racing mind easing to a stop with the relief that suddenly overpowers me.

 _She's okay._

 _She's going to be okay._

It had been 2 weeks since Willow was injured, and she had only woken up once. Of course it happened to be on the one day I hadn't visited her, due to my teachers' consistent blabbering on keeping up with my homework.

I honestly couldn't care less about work; that kind of thing seemed trivial at the moment. School, homework, excursions. None of it mattered to me at all anymore. Only Willow staying safe.

No one other than me had come in to visit her, and that had only furthered my upset. Her family didn't give a shit about her. As pissed off as that had made me, it had also made me stay with Willow for as long as I could. It had definitely been beneficial to me, except for one time only.

Her heart had stopped once over the 14 days, and I happened to witness it.

Let's just say that I didn't react well.

Think screaming, yelling, crying and more screaming at the doctors, nurses and even the visitors in the room next door to do something to help her.

After the day I missed her waking up and the heart malfunction shortly after, I had barely left her side except to get food and occasionally bathe.

All I ever did was hold her hand and sometimes kiss her forehead, not wanting to hurt her or stunt her recovery any further.

I drop my eyes away from her face, gazing at our interlocked hands instead. Looking at her face for too long made me feel guilty; like everything was my fault and that I didn't help her enough. Like I didn't support her enough.

"I promise Willow, when you get better and I can finally see your beautiful green eyes again, I am never leaving you. I'm going to be a better man for you. Be the man you need me to be." I whisper, studying the smooth pale skin of her hand as I stroke her thumb with my own.

If I hadn't been so intently focused on her hand, I probably wouldn't have noticed what happened next. But I was. And I did.

Her finger twitches.

I feel my eyes widen of their own accord.

"Willow?" I rush out, standing up so fast my chair skids backwards. I run my gaze over her face eagerly, waiting to see some sign that indicates she's waking up.

I see the flutter of her eyelids.

Another twitch of her finger.

A soft sigh soon follows.

"Willow?" I question more gently, running my spare fingers down the side of her face tenderly.

She lets out a grumbling type of noise before the fluttering of her eyelids becomes more consistent. The heart monitor beeps a tiny bit faster; the steady beat from sleep picking up a notch.

Finally, her eyes inch open.

And, with each millimetre that they do, the bright green I missed so much becomes clearer and clearer.

I barely move now, just stand there in shock.

Her eyes groggily assess her surroundings; the bed, the monitors, the all-white walls. Then, they land on me.

I hold my breath.

She blinks a few more times, recognition not truly kicking in. Cocking her head, a small frown furrows her eyebrows together as she observes my face, my chest, my legs, everything. I give her a small smile, which I hope is somewhat encouraging.

After another once-over, we make eye contact.

Her eyes widen, and I know the last remnants of confusion have dissipated as she gapes at me.

"River?"

My small smile morphs into a full-out grin.

"Willow," I state breathlessly, unable to wipe the happiness off of my face. "You're awake. I can't believe you're actually awake."

She glances around the hospital room again, now uncomfortable.

"What are you doing here?"

I frown.

"What do you mean?" I ask, still trying to calm myself down.

She looks up at me, sadness in her eyes. "I just left you there, River. I don't understand why you would want to be around me."

I gape at her in disbelief.

"Woman, you have just woken up for the second time after being in hospital for two weeks. And, I didn't get to see the first time it happened. I am not going to lose you again and I sure as hell ain't leaving you. So you can either tell me to go away now, or else I am staying right where I am to enjoy the fact that my maybe-girlfriend is going to be okay." I growl as I spread my arms out, before placing them on my hips.

I raise my eyebrows.

She blinks up at me and her bottom lip quivers slightly.

My attitude fades.

 _Please tell me I didn't make her cry…_

I start to worry until she nods her head meekly and extends her arms up to me, asking for a hug.

I smile gently and wrap my arms softly around her, loving and missing the feel of her. Her hands encompass my back and I hear her quiet sobs into my shirt.

"It's okay, Willow. You're okay." I assure in her ear, and she cries harder.

After a few minutes, I hear a shaky intake of air and her breathing steadies minutely.

"I'm sorry, River. I just… I-I don't want to hurt you with all t-the crap going on in my life." She stutters against my shoulder, and I stroke her back up and down soothingly.

"That is never going to happen Willow. Ever."

She draws away from my chest, keeping her hands resting behind my neck as she gazes up at me. Tear-stains mark her cheeks and her eyes are now slightly bloodshot, but she still looks beautiful.

"River… the only reason I walked off at the party was because–" But Willow is cut off as a doctor barges into the room, looking like he had just climbed a thousand flights of stairs as he halts in front of Willow's bed. Recalling the number of levels I had climbed due to the elevator being too slow, I figured I was probably right.

I read the doctor's nametag, which says 'Richard Ankh'.

Flicking my gaze to the guy's face, I watch as he grabs the clipboard hanging at the end of Willow's bed and starts flicking through it, apparently not realising that he was intruding on an important moment.

"Alright, Willow is it?" He asks, his voice deep and rich. Soothing really.

She swallows thickly and removes her hands from my shoulders, resting them on my chest delicately before placing them in her lap.

"Yes," she replies clearly.

He continues to flip through the clipboard until he reaches the end.

"Right," he says as he places the board back at the end of the bed, "My name is Dr. Ankh and I will be your doctor from here on. I've heard this is the second time you have woken up within the two weeks you've been here?" His eyes rise from his hands to Willow's face, and I see that they are a strong, intelligent dark brown.

"Yes." She repeats after a moment of consideration.

"Well, that's a very good sign Willow. Standard recovery symptoms which I am quite pleased with, due to the amount of injuries I heard you sustained." He explains, giving Willow a curious once-over.

Dr. Ankh appeared to be about mid-thirties, with neatly groomed salt-and-pepper dark hair, a tall and lean frame, bronze skin and a handsome face.

Walking around the side of the bed opposite to me, he tentatively sits down on the edge of the mattress.

"Willow, you're wounds were rather… different. You said you thought you were attacked by an animal, but an examination of the bite marks showed that they were from… human teeth." He concludes, an immediate glancing up to her face follows.

Willow displays no evident recognition, but inside I know she already knew what Dr. Ankh had told her.

"Okay, but I don't recall being hurt by a person." She evades, casting her eyes downwards.

Ankh narrows his eyes, but not in anger nor confusion.

More like… irritation.

He fidgets into a more comfortable position on the bed.

"I would like to know whether or not you have had any previous history with mental illness, Willow?"

"No."

"Schizophrenia?"

"No."

"Psychosis?"

" _No._ " She emphasises.

Dr. Ankh sighs and runs a hand through the front of his hair.

"Alright, let me rephrase. Have you ever seen – or imagined you've seen – things that technically do not exist?"

This question raises Willow's eyebrows and she glances back up in mild surprise, albeit confronted too.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, have you ever envisioned creatures or…monsters before?" Ankh asks, then scowls to himself, apparently feeling stupid for posing such a question.

Willow's eyes widen to the size of coins, her mouth stammering as she attempts to absorb and answer the information thrown at her.

Someone had basically just confronted her about the zombies she can see. The same ones I can see as well. Even though the question wasn't directed at me, I feel a little taken aback too.

I make brief eye contact with Ankh, and some unknown understanding and confirmation flows through.

I don't know how, but I could tell he just… knows.

About everything.

"No, she hasn't." I rush out to Ankh, and he raises a disbelieving brow.

Regardless, he nods as if he expected nothing less, discusses when Willow will be released and how she is progressing before grasping Willow's hand tightly, nodding a farewell and leaving her room.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and re-take Willow's other hand.

"That was… interesting." I state, rubbing circles into her palm.

She nods dazedly, her other hand clenched into a tight fist, something white peeking through.

I frown.

Ankh must have given her something when he shook her hand.

"What is that?" I ask, reaching for the white thing.

She hurriedly draws her hand back, squeezing it even tighter.

"Willow." I demand, my voice offering no arguments.

With a soft sigh and a tentative placement of her other hand in my other hand, I take out the white thing.

It happens to be a piece of paper.

I read it aloud, so Willow can hear as well.

 _Willow and River (because I know he will be reading this too),_

 _If you are in fact reading this, then it is most likely because I have given it to you after I have told you something… rather confronting._

 _I have a hunch that you would have known what I was talking about even if you don't want to admit it, but I know what is going on and I can help you._

 _Both of you._

 _Yes, River, I know you can see what Willow sees too, don't think I haven't noticed your consistent visits to talk to Willow during her recovery._

I gasp loudly before continuing to read the last remaining lines.

 _I understand that you might not want to believe what you saw, or what you are able to see, but the creatures are in fact, zombies._

 _Please, do not worry. You are not alone. I know people who can see them as well._

 _And I can too._

 _If I am wrong about you both, please burn this as soon as you get the chance. But if not…_

 _Give me a call on the number on the back of this paper, and we can take it from there._

 _Dr. Ankh._

I stop reading, handing the paper back to Willow silently.

I knew he was on to it.

"What do we do?" She asks, folding the paper up into tiny rectangles.

I drag my fingers through my hair.

"I don't know. I don't know. What do you think?" I question hesitantly, and Willow shrugs tensely.

"I… I think we should call the number." She whispers.

"But… Willow we don't know this guy and we don't know what he's a part of…" I trail off, bobbing my knee up and down nervously.

"He may just be able to help us, River. And right now, I think we need all the help we can get. Because I don't know what's going on and I'm so s-scared…" Her voice trembles, her hands shakily pulling at the long strands of her black hair.

"Hey, hey. No tears baby." I soothe, wiping the droplets away with my thumbs. "You know what? You're right. Let's call him later and we can get him to help us. He's a doctor anyway right?" I say in an attempt of weak humour.

She laughs wetly.

"Right. Okay, we'll ring him later." She repeats, confirming the situation to herself. She releases a long and heavy breath, a weight seeming to lift off of her shoulders.

"So…" I trail off.

"So…" She copies, giving me another small smile.

"You can leave this place tonight! Are you excited?" I ask enthusiastically, wanting to see her small smile turn into a big grin.

I am rewarded.

"Of course I am." She plays along, giggling slightly.

"What do you wanna do when you get out? I'll give you anything you want." I say.

Her light smile turns melancholy.

"River…"

"Hm?"

"Can we… can we try _us_ again?"

I stop playing with a lock of her hair, my body tensing up in apprehension.

"You want to try again?"

She nods.

I lean back in my shitty hospital seat, contemplating.

"Why did you leave at the party?" I ask quietly.

"Because I was scared that I was going to stuff everything up for you. I didn't want you to be with me only because you felt sorry for me, and I didn't want your pity over my life. I pulled away because I knew you deserved better and didn't want you to only like me because you feel obligated. But… I really like you, River. And… and I want to try and make this work."

She looks up at me, afraid of what I'm going to say.

I don't say anything at all.

I gaze at her face for another second before I gently cup her face in my hands, and kiss her.

The sparks and butterflies that appeared at the party re-appear once again, but unlike at the party, the kiss was soft and adoring, not hard and passionate.

I move my lips sensually against hers, loving the taste of caramel and strawberries that seem permanently embedded into her tongue.

She sighs softly against my mouth, before we both pull away tenderly, her hands now on my chest again.

Her eyes remain closed for a few moments, and it looks like she's savouring something sweet.

"We can definitely make this work Willow." I whisper, before connecting our lips together again.

 **Author's Note: I KNOW. I UPDATED! Total WTF moment for some of you I'm sure, who were probably convinced that I had died in my house or something. But alas! I AM ALIVE! Anyway, hope this chapter was decent enough, please comment and vote so I know what you think! I like hearing your feedback and your thoughts for how I should create the story! Thank you all for being so patient and I PROMISE SABLE WILL BE UPDATED SHORTLY. I just have a bit of writer's block atm with my next Sable chapter, but it'll be gone soon (hopefully). On a side note, do you guys want me to write a smut for River and Willow in the next chapter? Or too soon for that action? Lemme know!**

 **Love you all!**

 **~GladerGirl621 xx**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 12 – Sunshine and Caramels**

 **Author's Note: Yup. This shits going at the top today because why tf not. So this is the next update for TFO and it's actually not too bad if I do say so myself XD Please comment, vote, like, share, etc, etc, etc and SOMEONE PLEASE INBOX ME IN TERMS OF PLOT COZ I DON'T KNOW WHERE I'M GONNA GO WITH THIS. IDEAS WOULD BE GREATLY APPRECIATED.**

 **Until next time,**

 **GladerGirl621 xx**

"How's she doing?" Caroline asks me, settling herself against the end of my mattress.

I glance up from my homework, which I had finally caught up with.

"Yeah she's doing great. Much better now," I reply, then bury my face back into the depths of the Cold War.

Willow had returned home, and I had just been praying that everything was alright. With her family, herself, the… zombies. I had tried calling but it had always gone to voicemail and my worry had increased.

We weren't an official couple as of yet; we had decided that we wanted to go on a few dates if possible, get to know each other more before we rushed into anything too soon. So far, I hadn't received any calls from her.

My own wellbeing had never really come into the picture after Willow was released, even when I got the hell beaten out of me for being away from home. I'm surprised father hadn't brought out the wrench for that one; it was only the baseball bat this time. I found out later that Caro and Milla had told father I had been on a school camp; all costs had already been paid for. He believed it, the stupid bastard. He only bashed me for not telling him.

Milla and Caro had also sported a few cuts and bruises when I returned, and I internally kicked myself for being so idiotic and selfish. How could I have left them alone with him? For even a second? I spent the next week completely tending to my sisters and sleeping beside them, feeling horrible and worthless about myself.

Selfish yet again.

The past couple of weeks since Willow's recovery had been a total roller-coaster of emotions, and they're becoming annoying little itches that just won't go away.

As for Ankh, well we hadn't called the number yet. I just hoped he hadn't forgotten about us.

Back in the present, I sense rather than see Caro roll her eyes, and she yanks my history textbook away from me.

"Hey!" I exclaim, poking my pencil into her knee. She barely flinches and throws the book across the room, the thick pages landing with a thump against the opposite wall.

"What's all this about? I answered your question!"

She folds her hands into her lap daintily, ironic considering she had just hurled a book into a wall. "No, you didn't," is her response.

Sighing after a moment, I reluctantly put my pencil down and mimic her hand movements, studying her face wearily.

"She's fine, Caro. She's healing well and the doctor has given her the all goods. Now she's at home and she's probably doing something as mundane as homework. Just as I am now," I finish lamely, not really even convinced of my own words.

Caro isn't buying it either. She grabs my resting hands with her own and grips them tightly. Her gold eyes burn holes into my face. I can feel them.

"River, what's been going on with you lately? Willow's safe and okay, you've caught up at school and Aston is somewhere better now," she says and I try my hardest not to wince at the mention of Aston. "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

It's quite amazing how after you've been compartmentalizing so much, even the slightest mention of one of the things you've shut away can ruin your day and make you depressed. You feel like you haven't got control anymore. You feel like crying. You feel like screaming. You feel like the entire weight of the world is on your shoulders, and that soon you're going to crumble.

I try to shut all of those feelings out and realise I'm just compartmentalizing again. I can talk to her but I have to be careful. If I break down in front of Caro…

I hesitantly begin.

"I just… I don't think Willow is entirely safe. I don't think me or you or even Milla are safe. I hate school. Aston–" I halt at his name, then swallow thickly before continuing. "Aston is gone and loathes me with every inch of his being and then there's the…"

Caroline raises a gentle brow.

"The…?" She prompts.

I lower my eyes.

Forget telling her.

"It doesn't matter."

Compartmentalize.

I feel her studying me for a couple more seconds before she finally stands up.

"Okay, I'll leave you be. For now," she adds, pointing a finger at me. "But you should go out for a bit. Give homework a rest. Breathe some fresh air. Maybe go see Willow."

My head rises.

Caro waits.

"Okay." I state, hopefully satisfying her.

She smiles and nods. "Good."

She grabs her backpack from near the door and slings it over her shoulder, giving me a small wave before leaving and closing the door behind her.

I stay where I am for a few moments more, contemplating.

Should I go see her?

I mean, she isn't talking to me and calling her clearly hasn't been working.

Ugh, why does Caro always have to be right?

I put my pencil down and grab my own bag, stuffing in a few things. I make sure to pack a few caramels, which I found out are Willow's favourite candies. I also place in my paints and sketch pad. Popping a caramel into my mouth I slide on my Vans, grabbing my shades at the same time.

The door to our room opens yet again, and this time Camilla zooms in.

"Hey, River." She states, speeding past me and reaching for her handbag, which I found out happened to be a gift from Mace while I had been with Willow. Quote unquote: I'm so sorry for what you're going through Milla. This must be hard on you – River not being at home much. You know I'm always here for you if he isn't.

Idiot.

"Hey. Where you off to?" I question, folding my arms across my chest.

"Uh, nowhere," she evades.

I raise a dubious eyebrow at her.

" _Uh_ , no you're not," I mock, pinching her bag out of her hands. "Mind telling me where you got this from?"

She blushes.

"It doesn't matter who I got it from. Now can I please go? I need to be somewhere."

" _Who_ you got it from?"

Camilla lowers her gaze and shuffles her feet. I glare and put us nose to nose.

" _Who_ exactly _did_ you get this from, Milla? Because I remember asking _where_ , not _who_."

She glares right back and snatches the bag from me.

"It. Doesn't. Matter."

I sigh.

"Ugh, fine. Just…" I pause, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. "Be… be careful. Okay?"

She gives me a weird look, like I'd just gone and told her to scull a tonne of alcohol. "Yeah, always."

I nod to myself and release her arm, heading out the door and placing my glasses on my head. Walking down the stairs, I pass my mother and flinch.

She's up for once. Clap clap.

Bloodshot eyes flick a glance to me, and I maintain eye contact with her. Fluttering my gaze to her arms briefly, I discover fresh track marks resting above the old ones. Quite a lot of them actually. Father's 'business' must be doing alright if he can afford to give some of his product to his wife.

I see her slow on the steps as we pass each other carefully.

"River?"

She whispers my name so quietly I almost miss it. It sounds scratchy and unusual coming from her mouth. Like it hasn't been used in a while. Almost forgotten.

And it probably almost has.

I halt near the bottom of the stairs and slowly turn back around to face her.

"Yes?" I whisper just as quietly.

She doesn't answer me for a while, just stares at what seems to be all of me. She studies my face, my hair, my body. I wonder how long it's been since she's actually seen me and looked at me properly. I must appear quite different. Her little boy all grown up. If she even considers me to be 'hers' anymore.

"I'm proud of you," she answers softly, leaving me shell-shocked.

That was _not_ what I had expected.

All I can do is stare at her blankly and numbly, blinking in uncertainty.

"W-What?" I stutter, shaking my head slightly. She drops her gaze away, nodding to herself a little like she assumed nothing less, before she continues walking up the stairs.

I stay where I am for another moment, swaying on my feet.

It's almost as if what just happened hadn't actually happened. Maybe I just imagined that whole exchange. I practically can't remember anymore.

I sharply turn back to the base of the stairs, pretending that I hadn't just heard my mother say she was proud of me. Because really, when has she ever been?

I know father has work until 6:00 tonight, so I have a solid 6-hour time frame to figure out what to do about Willow.

I head out the door and catch the next bus at the stop.

When I settle comfortably in my seat, I pull out my phone so reluctantly, it probably looks like I'm pulling out some type of bomb.

 _No new messages._

I slump my head against my hand, which is resting on the window sill of the bus. Running a few fingers through my dark strands, I tug harshly and make the decision to try and call one more time before I appear at Willow's house.

With shaking fingers, my spare hand types in Willow's phone number. I press the green button and wait, holding the dreaded device to my ear.

It rings.

And rings and rings and rings.

I sigh with both relief and disappointment, preparing to end the call, when suddenly a tentative voice sounds from the speaker.

"Hello?"

I'm so startled I almost drop my phone, earning a few glances from fellow passengers who stare at me like I'm crazy.

"Yes. Hello. Hi," I respond breathlessly, clutching my phone tightly as I re-settle into my seat. "It's River."

A pause. A nervous cough.

"Hey, River. What's up?"

She sounded so annoyingly monotonous with her response.

I crack my knuckles on one hand. Time to turn on the charm.

If I have any.

"Well, you probably don't want to know 'what's up' on me at the moment," I joke, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of her. A laugh, a scolding for being so immature and dirty-minded, _anything_.

The line crackles for a moment before Willow lets out a tiny chuckle.

Yes.

"You pig," she says, and I can detect humour in her voice. Thank goodness.

"What? Can you really blame me? I haven't seen you or spoken to you in ages. I'm finally getting me some action," I continue on, cleverly changing the topic but keeping the joke going.

Her long sigh drifts into my ear.

"I know. I'm sorry, but Jason took my phone once I got back because apparently I was stupid to let myself end up in the hospital. He held onto it for a couple of weeks."

Anger bubbles inside my chest, simmering up to the back of my throat.

"It's okay," I say, and I can feel the bus grinding to a halt underneath me. I quickly get up and off, stumbling onto the footpath while attempting to continue holding my things. "Look, I actually want to tell you, I kinda maybe sorta might be making an appearance at your house today."

I hold my breath.

"Okay," she drawls out, and her Southern accent soothes me by the barest degree.

"Speaking of, I'm actually just down the street…"

I hear her small intake of breath and the clutter of something in the background. "Um, alright. Alright. Just, don't come to the door, I'll meet you outside."

I frown.

"What's wrong?"

"I just… I don't think Jason will be happy to find out that a boy is visiting my house."

Understanding dawns.

"Oh, okay sure. I'll wait out front. Bye," I end, and she rushes out a 'see ya'. I hurriedly shove my phone into my backpack and quick-walk down the street, searching for the large green brownstone with the number 32.

When I eventually find the glittering digits further down the road, I see a head of night hair and fair limbs stationed at the steps on the front porch.

I hesitate only for a second before I compose myself and place a hand on the main gate, pushing it open and walking towards Willow.

Treading down the short cobblestone path, I move closer and closer until I deliberately place my shoes under her face, which is hanging downwards, her dark locks obscuring the delicacy of her features.

I hear her gasp as she flings her head up, her hair performing some supermodel flick as the green eyes I missed so much brighten up at the sight of me. I smile down at her and she jumps up in record time, slinging her arms tightly around my neck and snuggling her cheek into my shoulder.

I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her against me, just taking her in. Lord, had I missed her.

"River," she breathes against my collarbone, the warmth giving me goosebumps.

"Willow," I whisper just as breathlessly, burying my nose into her black hair. It smelt like strawberries. "I've missed you so much baby."

I can feel her smile.

"I've missed you too."

I draw away reluctantly, still resting my hands on her hips.

"You wanna head to the park?" I ask, nodding my head to my backpack. "I brought paints."

Her eyes light up even more.

"I'd like nothing more."

I grin deviously.

"Well, there is something I'd like more," I whisper, leaning forward to nuzzle my nose against hers. Her smile widens and her hands move towards my face slowly. I can feel her fingertips leaving heat trails on my neck.

She finally pulls my head gently against hers, and I feel the prolonged excitement bubbling inside of me as her mouth nears my own. But at the last minute, her lips decide to plant a kiss on my cheek instead.

She draws away, giggling. What a tease.

"Hey!" I exclaim and she laughs outright, running past me and towards the gate, quickly swinging it open. Challenge radiates off of her features.

"We decided to give it a bit more time, Riv. You still need to ask me on that date."

I raise a brow.

"Is that all I need to do to get a proper kiss?" I tease, beginning to saunter towards her.

She backs away, the grin never leaving her beautiful face.

"Maybe…" she trails off.

"Well then, in that case…" I trail off as well, before making a lunge in her direction. She laughs again, sprinting off towards Ivy Park. I chase her down the street and across roads; neither of us can stop giggling like loons.

I feel the adrenaline pumping through me as she races through the huge gate of the park, me hot on her tail. She never slows, heading towards where we painted out art project.

As we near the willow tree, she begins to slow down and turns to face me suddenly. Unfortunately, I'm still running at full pelt and can't stop myself in time as I barrel into her.

Laughing even harder, we collapse onto the ground, clutching at our stomachs.

"W-Willow," I gasp out, still trying to catch my breath.

She continues to chortle, rolling over to face me.

"That was the most fun I've had in ages," she says, barely winded.

I flip to my back, beaming up at the sun and cloudless sky.

"Same here," I agree.

We lay there for a while, the shade from the willow tree creating a perfect canopy as the sun peaks through the gaps between the leaves.

"We're going to have to start calling this our tree," she remarks, amusement in her tone. I glance over at her.

"I guess so."

Her long lashes are highlighted by the sunlight, and her face looks completely serene as she inhales, exhales.

Suddenly, she turns on her side to face me.

"You wanna paint something?"

"Sure," I say and sit up – albeit reluctantly – as I reach for my bag and pull out the sketch pad and watercolours. Willow sits up beside me, ruffling fallen leaves out of my hair.

"Can I go first?" She asks, and I pass her the instruments.

"Go for it."

She smirks and reaches for the brushes, selecting the fine one I know she favours. Next she grabs the paper from my hand and begins to mix up watercolour in shades of black, brown and a stunning, vibrant gold. I watch in fascination as she creates the shimmering colour, combining yellow, a glittery brown and a few other undertones.

She angles the sketch pad away from me, so that I can't see watch she's painting.

"Aw, come on. Lemme watch."

She giggles.

"Nope. Not until after."

I roll my eyes and fall back down to the ground, placing my hands over my stomach and one knee up, trying to get comfortable again. I gaze up at the sun once more, loving all of the symbols I can think of relating to the bright light.

Warmth.

Fire.

Passion.

Light.

Positivity.

I don't know how long I lay there for, but it feels like forever as I get lost in the comfort and heat of the bright orb. I feel my eyes drifting closed. I'm fairly sure I begin to doze in and out of sleep, before a poke on my thigh sends my flailing quickly into a sitting position, whipping my head around.

"What? What happened?" I question in a panic, eventually meeting Willow's gaze.

She's biting off a smile.

"Nothing happened. I was just waking you up because first, you were snoring incredibly loud," she laughs, and I blush. I had been snoring in front of her? "And second, the picture's done if you want to see it."

Now I become more attentive, straightening my back a little and leaning towards the paper in her hands.

"Let's see it."

She glances down at her work one more time before she hesitantly turns the paper towards me.

I almost choke on my own spit.

Holy crap.

She'd painted me.

The image was flawless, and not just because it was me (har har). She had drawn me when I was lying down, my leg up and my arms draped over my torso. Sun highlights my face, and my eyes are open, displaying the amazing gold colour she had mixed up earlier. It matches the beams of light.

"Wow," I breathe, studying the inquisitive and thoughtful expression she had painted onto my face.

"Well, you painted me for the art project, so I thought I'd return the favour," she begins, scrutinizing my features on the image. "You like it?"

"It's amazing," I state in awe, flicking my gaze back up to her. "And since we're having this moment of passion and self-discovery and wonder, you think you're free this Saturday?" I joke, silently begging her to agree.

"Most definitely," she grins, snorting slightly at my cheesy 'moment' line.

"Great. And before I forget–" I reach behind me and shuffle around for the caramels I packed, throwing a couple in her direction. "The most legendary candy of all time. Enjoy."

She gasps, snatching up as many as she can before hugging me in gratitude. "You are incredible," she breathes and I chuckle.

"I know, I know."

She draws back, but her smile slowly fades.

"What's wrong?" I question, holding her tighter.

"Have… have you called Ankh?"

I loosen my hold on her, dropping my gaze. "No."

"Me neither."

"When do you wanna call him?" I ask, my voice shaking slightly in apprehension.

"I-I don't know."

I catch her eyes again.

"Well we need to decide. This indecision is driving me crazy."

She nods. "You're right. What about we set a date, that way we can't get out of it."

I nod along with her in agreement. "Okay. Okay. How about tomorrow? We can do some old-fashioned three-people telephone call," I say in attempt to lighten the mood, as usual.

She visibly relaxes. "Okay. Cool."

She climbs into my lap, straddling my stretched out legs and holding me close to her. I rest my chin on her shoulder, detecting the perfume she typically wears. I hadn't smelt it in a while.

With Willow's arms around me and the sun raining down on us like a spotlight, I finally felt like everything was going to be alright.


End file.
